


Flightless Owl

by volleydorkscentral



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Fukurodani - Freeform, M/M, Major Character Injury, Spring High Nationals Tournament Spoilers, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-07-14 11:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 57,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16039673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volleydorkscentral/pseuds/volleydorkscentral
Summary: It wasn't anyone's fault, really. Just an accident of fate. The thought that went through Bokuto’s mind wasn’t 'help' or even 'oh, no'. It was this: if only I were a real owl… then I could just fly away.Or, the one where Bokuto takes a fall and his dreams are shattered.





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday my darling owl son! Sorry I'm going to torture you for your birthday. 
> 
> This also takes place in a minor AU world ... Nationals haven't happened yet to make for drama later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Several Months after Finishing This Fic Note: I'm gonna go through and edit the text of all the chapters to an updated version. Nothing changes except grammar, typos, spelling mistakes, the random spaces, and rewording certain weird sentences. I'm still so happy that this is still getting hits and kudos, you guys make my heart so happy <3 )

It wasn’t anyone’s  _fault_ , really. Just an accident of fate.

The team had taken a day to go to one of those obstacle course parks. They had been before, it had always been fun. A way to unwind before tournaments.

It was just a moment. One second where everything was great then the next the world fell from under him. Bokuto had been the only one using this particular part of the rope course. He was halfway over the bridge that hung suspended between obstacles when it shivered. He stopped, confused, as the bridge trembled again, dropping an inch and making his heart leap into his throat.

Then there was nothing beneath him but air and the ground far below. Someone shouted his name.The thought that went through Bokuto’s mind wasn’t  _help_ or even  _oh, no_. It was this:  _if only I were a real owl… then I could just fly away._

He wasn’t exactly aware of the moment he hit the ground — just that he wasn’t falling anymore, but he heard someone scream, “Call an ambulance!”

Bokuto opened his eyes; immediately closed them. Pain made his vision blurry. It was too much, it was everywhere. His spine felt white hot. Nothing else mattered.

“Bokuto!” Someone said above him, concern making the voice high. “Don’t move, okay? Medics are on the way…”

He couldn’t figure out how to breathe.

When the medical personnel arrived Bokuto thought he would rather die than have them move him. He kept passing out and coming to as they put his neck and spine in a brace, causing black and red spots of pain to blossom behind his eyes. His head felt over full, ready to burst with each touch of gentle fingers on his brow. “Stop,” he moaned. “Please.”

The fingers paused, then continued more gently. “Sorry, I have to check for —”

Bokuto screamed, but wasn’t sure if any sound actually came out. Hands were attempting to move him to a board they had brought. “Stop, stop, _stop stop stop please…_ it hurts…”

“I know, but we have to. We have to get you to a hospital. One more, guys. One, two, three.”

Bokuto felt bones shift in his foot. Something stabbed his ribs. Someone killed him, possibly. What else would cause so much pain? Was he dying? Is this what it was like to die? He didn’t want to die. He felt his mind slipping, running away, and tried to stay afloat, but the pain forced him under until knew nothing but darkness.

 

* * *

 

The ambulance was too bright. Bokuto moaned on the gurney he was strapped to. Coach Yamiji had a hand on his arm, murmuring gentle soothing noises. Suddenly the entire compartment was thrown to the left with a sharp jarring sensation as the driver took a turn too fast. “Careful!” the medic shouted, then mumbled, “I hate new drivers. Idiots. Oh,” the girl noticed he was awake, “If you can, will you answer some questions for me?”

Bokuto moaned, head spinning. He couldn’t move. “Why —...”

“I’ve got you strapped down. You took a nasty fall. We need to keep you still as possible until we can assess the damage.“

Coach's face appeared over him. “Stay still, we’re almost at the hospital. I’ve called your parents. They’ll meet us there.”

Bokuto glanced at him, saw how pale he was, and was immediately worried.  _Assess the damage_. So something was wrong with him. The pain was less like lightning and more like lava running down his veins. Constant, slow, deep. His heart was throbbing, distressed at the damage to his body.

“What’s wrong… with me?” Bokuto managed to rasp out. His throat was dry and pained, scratchy. From screaming? Had he been awake without being aware? He wanted water.

The girl’s eyes flicked towards his legs but she said quickly, “We don’t know the full extent of — no! Lay down!” She put her hands on his shoulders, holding him down. She was stronger than he thought she would be. Or he was just weaker than he had been an hour ago.

“I want to see,” Bokuto said through gritted teeth. His body screamed at him, telling him that nothing was alright with the world. It was hard to draw in a breath with all his muscles taut and clenched.

Coach touched his shoulder and Bokuto flinched. “You really don’t. Just try and relax until we can —”

Bokuto snarled at him, “Let me see!” He thrashed, or tried to. He wanted to know why he couldn't feel anything other than fire past his knee.  _Please, let my leg still be there._ He began to hyperventilate, panic making everything seem small and his vision blacken to a pinpoint. The medic reached behind her, hands swift and sure as she dug out a needle from a drawer, flipped the protective cap off of it, and jammed it into his arm. He didn’t even feel it, only saw the needle sink into his skin. Ice trickled from the spot and dripped into his brain. His thoughts began to muddle again, his chest loosened as the medicine forced his body to relax. He was both grateful and furious.

“Is he allergic to anything?” the medic asked Coach as Bokuto slipped into unconsciousness.

“Not that I’m aware of. How long until we’re there?”

“Ten minutes tops, probably. He should be out before then and hopefully he’ll stay that way until we get him transferred inside. I can’t imagine the pain he’s feeling right now.”

“Do you think it will have to be —"

“I’d rather not say. The doctors will know more after x-rays. I’m sorry.”


	2. Outcome

Bokuto screamed.

The nurses moved his leg this way and that, carefully, slowly, and efficiently taking x-rays. They tried to do it in such a way that they wouldn’t have to do it more than a few times. It still  _fucking. hurt._

“No more,” he moaned, fingers white on the edges of the bed.

One of the nurses came from behind the radiation window and came to stand above him. “Just one more, I promise. We have to know for the surgery.”

“Can’t you just —” He stopped as the pain flared up, throbbed up his leg and made him arch. He smashed his head into the table, sobbed at the barest fraction of relief from his leg as his brain released a tiny amount of endorphins.

“Please try to sit still,” the nurse said, voice gentle and kind, knowing he was trying but that he couldn’t do it. She vanished behind the screen again and Bokuto heard the  _whirr_ of the machine as it came to life and took pictures of his bones. His broken bones, his broken body. He was wingless, flightless, grounded like a wounded animal.

No, it was more than that. He could feel it. The glimpse he got of his leg when they brought him into the room and onto the table was horrific. The skin was a mottled purple and crimson, a galaxy of blood stuck under flesh. Pieces of bone pressed against the skin of his foot, trying to break free but not sharp enough to pierce through muscle and skin. Bruises snaked up his leg, all the way up to his hip. He couldn’t move any part of his leg so not only was his foot so obviously out of commission, but possibly his knee too. Or his hip. He whined like an injured animal waiting to die. His life, he thought, was over.

“Alright, there we go. You need to be prepped for surgery now.”

The team of nurses came in and, accompanied by wails of pain, hoisted Bokuto off the x-ray table and onto the gurney. His throat was raw from screaming, even it was beginning to hurt. His fingers ached with how hard he had grasped the table, he could see bruises forming at the knuckles. His entire body simply _ached_. Not a single muscle could escape pain — either because it had been directly impacted by the fall (“Lucky to survive,” he had heard one nurse say) or from clenching so hard they exhausted themselves.

“Water,” he begged, reaching up and grabbing the sleeve of one of the nurses.

The man shook his head, “I”m sorry, we’re going to prep you for surgery. You can’t have anything to eat or drink.”

“ _Please.”_

The man flushed, hesitated, but a look from an older woman made him flinch. “I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Surgery was Bokuto’s favorite part because he was asleep and without pain during it. He dreamed he was playing volleyball with his teammates, his friends, his rivals. Kuroo was there, and his disciple Hinata. He loved the way Hinata made him feel like a real teacher, like he was passing on his knowledge he had worked so  _so_ hard to gain. They went for a hike, swam in a lake, had a bar-b-que, and more, all the things he loved.

Upon waking, he could hear his parents and the doctor talking. He worshiped the tingling sensation that trickled through his body and chased the pain away.

“Luckily we were able to save it,” the doctor was saying to his parents. His mother was silently sobbing. “We put a rod in his thigh to guide the femur to heal correctly. That’s the only permanent rod in place. The tibia was a very clean break so it should heal cleanly with the cast we’ve placed. Now, obviously, the ankle is the danger here.”

There was a pause, the doctor letting the news sink in. “We’ve done extensive reconstruction surgery on the bones and have put six pins in to keep them in place while they fuse together. When he landed, the ball joint shattered, along with several metatarsals and connecting bones of the ankle.”

“How long will they be in?” his father asked, sounding pained and distressed.

“At least three months, maybe longer depending on how fast he’s able to heal. He’s young, so I’m very hopeful.” A page turned. “The broken ribs will heal cleanly, if painfully. Since nothing broke off or pierced his lungs, they should heal mostly without help. There was some spinal bruising, but nothing too concerning as long as he stays sedimentary while they heal. He’ll probably have a headache for several days due to spinal fluid leaks. We’ve put in blood patches, so the leaks should stop in a day or so. The welt on the back of his head is another concern, we’ll need keep an eye on that and make sure it doesn’t put any pressure on his brain and drains smoothly.”

Bokuto shifted, raised a hand to get their attention. He didn’t want to open his eyes just yet. He didn’t want to see the state of his body. “Will I —” he stopped, had to clear his throat and start over. His voice was gone, he couldn’t make it louder than a whisper. “Will I be able to play volleyball again?”

No one answered him. He felt a sob begin to form deep in his soul — materialize in his chest and rise up his throat as the silence lengthened.

“We don’t know,” the doctor said. “You’ll be able to walk after extensive therapy and rehab.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. All his hard work meant nothing, now —  _nothing._

_Let me sleep,_ he thought,  _just let me sleep so I can dream._

His mother’s hand brushed his forehead. She kissed his hair — she hadn’t done that since he was a child. It broke him. The sob burst in his chest, escaped through his chapped lips. His mother's gentle cries were beside him, mirroring the breaking of his own heart. She whispered a prayer over him while tears streamed down his cheeks.


	3. Visitors

Eventually, he had to look.

It was both worse and … not. The good news: he had a foot. The bad: he couldn’t see how he would ever walk again. The doctors assured him the metal rods would come out once the bones had healed enough to hold the structure of his foot together.

The rods were at least a foot long, made of shiny metal titanium, sticking out of his foot on either side like he was preparing for android surgery. They were on a large foam block with towels and foam wedges to give his foot something to rest on so it wasn’t simply hanging suspended in midair between the rods. A cast of plaster wrapped around his shin, and gauze looped up his thigh, covering up thick, black stitches.

It had been this way for two days. Bokuto spent his time either staring at it all, lamenting everything except the pain medication dripping into his veins or doing everything he possibly could to  _not_ look at it. He had a private room, which was a blessing, and a bedside terminal that was similar to his laptop. Television helped. His parents didn’t, when they visited. They couldn’t look at him without giving him  _the look_.

The _I’m so sorry this happened, you poor thing_ look. The  _you’re going to be okay_ look. The _I’m here for you_ look. The rotation of doctors and nurses were used to trauma and treated him less like a person and more like a series of treatments, which he was honestly quite grateful for. They were kind, polite, calm. His favorite attendant was a young girl, new to the hospital, because she was always nervous but always took to changing bandages with a fervor that made her endearing.

When the bandages stuck to his skin and he flinched as they tore off, the girl squeaked in panic. “I’m sorry! Sometimes that just happens. Do you want me to —”

“No,” Bokuto mumbled. “It’s alright…” He was already used to the feeling of skin tearing.

The little nurse looked distraught but nodded, and went back to pulling tiny strips of gauze from around the metal rods and replacing them with clean ones.

He laid his head back and grit his teeth, fists clenched. It wasn’t only the dull, lingering pain that was his constant companion now. It was that everything was over — at least for a year. Maybe more. A year just to walk. A year just to hobble. The doctor said he might never get to play volleyball again. Or, if so, it would take a long  _long_ time.

Nationals — his last chance to win was gone. His team would go. He could watch. It would have to be enough. He glanced at the clock, it was late afternoon. They would have been done with practice for an hour or so. Surely someone would come visit him. Surely…

Maybe not. He wondered why no one came yesterday. Granted, he was high on painkillers and slept all day but still. It was the thought that counts, right? That’s what his mother told him when cards and flowers were sent to his room. He didn’t like the sickly sweet perfume of them. The nurses usually took them away because it made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to go home.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock and a nurse poked her head in. “You have visitors?” she said it like a question, as if he would turn away a distraction.

“Let them in, please.”

And in walked Yukie and Akaashi. Bokuto’s heart lifted for a moment upon seeing them, then fell as Akaashi paused, for just a moment, just a  _heart beat_ , glancing at his foot.

Yukie didn’t. She came straight over and leaned over his bed to hug him awkwardly. He grunted with the pain of his broken ribs, but raised one arm to wrap around her side.

“Oh! Bokuto, I’m so glad you’re —” She let out a breath, sounding like she might cry. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it…”

Her hair tickled his cheeks and smelled gently of rose water. She pulled away, eyes searching his face until she found whatever she was looking for. “Here, we brought you this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small envelope and handed it to him.

Bokuto glanced at her, then Akaashi, who was still hesitating at the edge of the room. Yukie waited, while he opened it, a smile touching her lips, then explained as he pulled out a small origami daisy, “We didn’t want you to have to care for flowers or anything, we all know you aren’t good with them. So, we made this and the whole team signed it.”

Bokuto smiled, happier than he thought he would have been. All his friends had written get well notes and signed the little flower. “I love it,” he told her. “It’s great.”

She had tears in her eyes. “We’re all praying for your recovery. When do they think you’ll go home?” She glanced at his foot, the color in her cheeks draining as she took it all it. “What did they say?”

He didn’t want to go over it all again. But he did, slowly, his mind fuzzy as he tried to remember all the details. If he was unsure he simply had to try and move something and feel where the pain was. As he spoke, explaining his injuries and that the doctors expected at least another week in the hospital, then several months bed rest, and a year’s worth of rehab Akaashi slowly tiptoed around the bed, carefully avoiding going anywhere near his foot, but never taking his eyes off it until he was standing beside Bokuto.

“Gosh, that’s so awful.” Yukie sighed, her lips trembling. “It was so … scary… when you fell.”

He forced a laugh. “How do you think I felt?”

She gasped in horror. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean —”

“I’m kidding, don’t worry.” He reached over and touched her hand. “Come on, I’m  _fine_! It’s gonna be okay. I’ll be back to the gym in no time,” he said with a smile. He knew it was a lie. She did too. Tears filled her eyes and her lip trembled.

“Konoha recorded it,” Akaashi said, the first thing he’d said since entering.

Yukie nearly shrieked, “Keiji! Don’t show him that!”

But Bokuto had sat up, suddenly very awake. “Really?”

Akaashi looked at his leg, then shifted closer to the head of the bed as he pulled out his phone. “Yeah, he didn’t mean to, but he caught you falling.”

“Show me!” Bokuto pushed himself into a better sitting position, wincing at the crackle in his spine and the way it made his head throb.

Akaashi glanced at him, then showed him his phone. The sound was off, but Bokuto saw the rope course they had been traversing. Wataru raced ahead of him and Bokuto remembered yelling after him, betting him something. About what… he couldn’t exactly remember. Who could cross the bridge the fastest? Or was it something about serving practice? Or jumping height? Bokuto saw himself take off after him, forgetting to click the safety harness into place, then suddenly stop for no apparent reason visible to the camera.

He remembered the shift under his feet, though. The panic that made his heart skitter for a moment. And the thoughts, quick as the synapses that lit his brain, _but it’s safe, it can’t break, hundreds of people cross this bridge every day_.

And then, on screen, the rope snapped. There was a moment’s pause, the world held its breath, where Bokuto hung suspended, like when he went in for a killer spike. Then he was falling. He saw his arm lash out, grasping at air as the rope that would save him fell away. His body jerked as he fell, and if it wasn’t him, if it hadn’t been so dangerous, it would have been funny. The camera shook as Konoha ran forward, but Bokuto still saw himself smash into the ground.

The fall itself wasn’t  _nasty_ , as he had heard people say. It was the landing. His body had rotated in midair, trying to protect the all important brain. When his leg hit, he could see the way the inflexible bones crumbled and splintered. His arms flailed out, trying to save him, failed miserably, and his head cracked into the ground. His body went limp.

He saw people screaming, wordless. People in the trees pointing. People on the ground running towards him. Akaashi was the first one there, sliding to him on his knees and leaning over him. Konoha was running now, the camera shaking madly, recording forgotten. Grass filled the screen and then it was over.

Bokuto stared at the blackness, unsure how exactly he felt. His mind was too full of shock to be able to process exactly what he had seen.

“Akaashi…” Yukie whispered.

He reached for his phone but Bokuto pulled it away. He watched it again, this time with sound on low. Akaashi and Yukie clearly weren’t happy about this, but neither of them stopped him. It was eerie, hearing the thud of impact, the hollow sound his body made as it hit the earth. He scrubbed his finger over the frames, watching it in slow motion. One frame perfectly captured the shattering of his ankle — the bones imprinted on the underside of his skin. Yukie looked a bit green.

“I—…” she said, voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be right back. Excuse me,” and she rushed out. They heard her walking quickly down the hall and Bokuto felt bad for having upset her.

He stopped the video and, over Akaashi’s protests, sent it to himself. He didn’t have his phone but when he went home he’d like to watch it again. Handing it back he asked, “How’s the team?”

Akaashi glanced at Bokuto’s foot again, the metal elephant in the room. “Worried about you, captain.”

The word stabbed Bokuto’s heart. “You guys have to win at nationals. You’ve got, what, two weeks to practice? Put in one of the first years from the bench, they’ve been practicing hard. Make sure Konoha doesn’t run away with the team —”

“I know, Bokuto,” Akaashi assured him, touching his shoulder. His hand was warm, firm with support and comfort, but gentle enough that it didn’t hurt the bruises. Akaashi had nice hands. Bokuto had always known this, but not usually from a first hand basis.

Bokuto tried to sigh, but it hurt too much and he ended up wincing, which threw him into a coughing fit, which was like someone lancing each of his ribs with a dull, rusty sword. Akaashi panicked, snatching a small cup of water and pushing it into his hands.

“Breathe, Bokuto, breathe.”

“I can’t!” Bokuto wheezed, tears coming to his eyes, but he was laughing. It was the only way he knew to not burst into defeated sobs in front of his best friend.

Akaashi smiled his gentle smile, hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, and Bokuto felt a moment of warmth in his stomach, fluttering around his belly. Akaashi must not have showered after practice, only changed clothes, because he smelled of the gym: sweat, wooden floors, sneakers, and the warmth of sunshine. He smelled nice. Bokuto wanted to be back at that gym.

He reached up despite the pain it caused and patted Akaashi’s arm. “I’ll be okay. Just give me some time.” He swallowed, pushing down the lump that was fast forming. “I’ll totally be at nationals.”

Akaashi’s face froze in place, smile hiding how upset he was. But Bokuto saw it in his eyes. He liked Akaashi that much more for pretending, though.

“Of course, Bokuto.”


	4. Constant

Over the next two weeks, Akaashi visited him every day. He was the only constant. Sometimes his parents came by and spent several hours fussing over him, even though he told them he was fine and they could go back to work.

To be honest, he rather liked solitude now. He liked not having to fake smile for anyone. He liked being able to simply slip into a drugged state of sleep whenever he wanted and not feel bad for sleeping when there were visitors. He liked being able to mourn the loss of his life by himself and not pretend that everything was going to be okay.

Because it wasn’t. He couldn’t imagine any professional team allowing him to play for them after an injury like this. His skills would wane. Maybe he’d forget how to spike. That would be the icing on the cake of disaster that had befallen his life.

After school and practice, Akaashi would come for a few hours. Usually, someone else from the club was in tow. Wataru almost cried the first time he came, and kept apologizing as if he had actually been the one to cut the rope. Bokuto had tried to assure him with a cheerful smile that it wasn’t his fault —  _it was just an accident_.

That’s what everyone said. It was. But Bokuto hated himself for it. It shouldn’t have happened. He remembered being high in the trees, safety harness unattached. He remembered the thought that he should hook it to something… but then he had started chasing Wataru, harness forgotten. It was his fault he fell. He knew it. The darkness of the knowledge of it sat heavy on his heart.

Saru and Konoha came one day, Konoha saying with his usual deadpan, “Dude, what the  _fuck.”_

Akaashi had explained it all for him, because he had seen the way Bokuto hated doing it over and over again.

“What happens if I touch it?” Konoha asked, eyeing the metal contraption on Bokuto’s foot.

It made Bokuto uncomfortable because he hadn’t had a proper shower in days and he thought his foot smelled. The nurses cleaned him, of course, but there was only so much a damp cloth could do.

“It will hurt,” Akaashi said in a quiet tone. It was obvious he really meant:  _don’t fucking touch it._ They all stared at him in shock, Konoha stepping back. It didn't matter that Akaashi was usually demure, he could be vicious when provoked and no one liked to do it. Except Bokuto, sometimes, when he thought it would be funny. 

Bokuto waved a hand as if to wave away the tension. “Not that much.”

“So you’re on some crazy drugs, then?” Saru was peering at his IV. He didn’t like needles, and the one sticking in Bokuto’s elbow fascinated and abhorred him.

Bokuto clenched his fist to make the needle jump and Saru squeaked in fear. They all had a big laugh about that.

When Haruki visited he told Bokuto, “I tried to bring you a volleyball but they took it away.”

Yukie came back, sometimes with Konoha, and even once with Kaori. Bokuto didn’t know her very well, but she brought him tiny candies and wished him the absolute swiftest recovery. She didn’t like the rods the most out of anyone on the team, and didn’t come back to see him, only sent him cards and notes through the others, asking after his health.

Some days, Akaashi came alone. The first time they were alone together Bokuto had barely settled into the hospital, only a few days. Akaashi was horribly nervous. He stood beside the bed, trying not to fidget.

“Sit down, Akaashi,” Bokuto said, motioning to the chair beside the bed. “You look like shit.”

It was true — but Bokuto don’t know why he said it like that. The medicine made his mouth less prone to obedience and he tended to blurt out whatever was in his mind. But Akaashi didn’t look great. It looked like someone had taken an ink covered thumb and pressed it under each eye. They were red too, usually a sign that he had stayed up late playing games or reading.

“Studying,” Akaashi said. “You’re missing exams, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto laughed. “Thank God.”

Sighing, Akaashi sank into the chair, hands clasped in his lap. His eyes would drift towards the metal rods, then jerk away guiltily.

After several long minutes of this, both of them unsure of what to say, Bokuto finally drew in a breath ( _ouch,_ he swore internally,  _fucking ribs)_ and told him, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Akaashi’s eyes flicked to meet his then down to his hands in shame. “I don’t mean to stare.”

“It’s fine… really. I stare at it all day.”

Akaashi’s fingers tightened on one another and he heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve it.”

_But it’s my fault._ “Hey, hey, hey, don’t sweat it. The doctors say I’ll be able to play again!” He forced the best smile he could. Akaashi stared at him until it dropped all the way to his stomach. “Okay... no. But I will be able to walk. They keep assuring me of that.”

“Does it…” Akaashi motioned toward the rods. “Do they…” He frowned, frustrated because he couldn’t seem to find the sentence he was looking for. “What do they feel like?” He looked like he hated himself for asking.

Bokuto drummed his fingers on the bed, considering. He liked that Akaashi hadn’t asked  _do they hurt_ because of course they did. “It’s … I don’t know, weird.” He rolled his eyes, playing up his fake cheerfulness. “Want to try one?”

Akaashi didn't smile or encourage him. “No.”

“Boring, Akaashi! You’re boring!” Bokuto’s face hurt from making the muscles smile.

Akaashi let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat, looking away, slumping a little. “Bokuto…” he struggled with his words again, like he always seemed to now. It wasn’t easy losing their banter. Bokuto didn’t know how to fix it. “Please don’t lie to me anymore.” Akaashi’s voice was soft, asking rather than demanding.

Bokuto flinched as if slapped. Of course Akaashi had seen through him. Akaashi always saw him. What did he say now?  _Sure, okay, here’s the truth: I’m miserable and I feel like I could die tomorrow and not be too upset about it. I’ve ruined my life. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t even go to the bathroom without supervision so what exactly do you want from me? Why do you keep coming here when we both know you don’t enjoy being here? Just go. Leave me alone, leave me to suffer, leave me to mourn. Please._

Instead, after he had spent too long watching the minutes tick by, waiting for Akaashi to change the subject or speak up, he finally muttered, “I’m sorry.” His chest hurt in a way that wasn't because of his ribs. 

“Mhm.”

“Really.”

“Mhm-hmm.”

Bokuto groaned. “Do you really want me to say it?”

Akaashi only stared at him, face serene and unreadable. Bokuto couldn’t help but squirm under his green eyes, locked like a predator.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry I tried to make you feel better by lying to you.” Akaashi huffed at his choice of words. “I promise to never do it again.”

They looked at each other for a breath, then Akaashi stood and moved closer, reaching his hand out, little finger extended. “Promise me… I can’t watch you destroy yourself over this. You’re alive, that’s what matters.”

Bokuto felt a blush rise in his cheeks. The extra blood made his head pound… or maybe it was the fluttering of his heart. He reached out and hooked his little finger through Akaashi’s, and realized that Akaashi’s hands were probably bigger than his own. Not thicker, Akaashi was all lean muscle, but longer, the bones of his fingers strong from years of volleyball but his skin was soft and cool and pleasant. 

“Yeah. I promise.”


	5. Captain

As Nationals drew closer, Bokuto became more and more distraught. He loathed the fact that his last high school tournament would be spent watching from the television in the safety of his hospital bed. He wanted to be there, even if he couldn’t play, just to be in the energy of the place. It was better than electric. The energy of the players and the crowd was palpable, leaping from one person to the next until everyone in the gymnasium was connected in a tumultuous surge of elation and nerves.

The whole team came to see him the day before, much to the displeasure of the nurses. They could only stay a few minutes as the whole group, but it did cheer him up more than he thought it would. He thought it would only make him more sad to see everyone and know that he was no longer a part of them but, on the contrary, it was almost like old times, lacking any movement on Bokuto’s part. They brought him his jersey to wear and he had to work very hard to not let himself cry. They still treated him as captain, even though it was obvious he would never play with them again.

“You guys don’t let those damn cats walk all over you,” he told them.

“We’re not even sure we’ll play them.” Yamato frowned, shifting from foot to foot, nervously glancing at the metal, the cords, the IV lines connected to Bokuto, all the things he could trip over.

Bokuto let his head fall back onto the pillow, closing his eyes, his jersey draped over his chest, trying to absorb the energy from it. Everything he’d done the past three years was embedded in the fibers. All the sweat, blood, and tears; every match, tournament, practice. Winning his first game as ace, all the best spike’s he’d ever gotten, all the celebrating, the team hugs. Even the bad things: every lost game, every time he’d fucked up during a game, that one time he and Tatsuki had gotten in a fight over something so stupid Bokuto didn’t even remember what it was anymore.

He opened his eyes to see the team watching him, waiting. “You guys go win, alright?”

Wataru had tears in his eyes again. He really was very emotional, but Bokuto liked that about him.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do that.”

Wataru sniffled, rubbing his eyes with his shirt. “I’m sorry. I just feel horri—”

“Stop,” Akashi said sharply, voice round and stern. “That’s not helpful.”

“And you look like an idiot,” Konoha added.

Wataru punched him. “Shut up!”

Bokuto laughed, then grimaced, laid an arm over his ribs. At that moment a doctor came in, scowling furiously. “Everyone who is not my patient leave, now.”

“Please let them stay!” Bokuto said, clasping his hands together.

The doctor’s face turned a nasty shade of purple. Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

“Bye, guys,” Bokuto said, drooping.

Tatsuki held up a fist. “See you, Bokuto.” They bumped fists, Tatsuki smacking his knuckles harder than necessary.

Bokuto yelped, pulled his hand away, laughing through the pain as he cradled it against his chest. “It’s a damn good thing I’m  _not_ playing! You just broke my good spiking hand!”

Everyone said their goodbyes. Bokuto, ignoring the pain in his sides, he hugged each and every one of them and told them good luck, trying to dole out his final  _I’m the captain_ pep talks without crying. It took too long, the doctor started tapping his foot and he said in a furious, demanding tone, “Visiting hours are over. Don’t make me call security.”

They left, waving goodbye. Akaashi paused, he hadn’t gotten his hug. Bokuto reached for him…the doctor snarled. He had to go, pausing at the door to look back at Bokuto, mouth open, about to speak, but the doctor hovered, glaring, and he was forced to leave. 

Bokuto lay awake all night, wondering what he was trying to say. His mind fluctuated between various forms of  _we’ll miss you_ to  _I’ll miss you_ to  _don’t worry we’ll win_ to  _don’t forget to watch us._

His mind spun with everything he wanted to say to Akaashi and more. He still hadn’t been able to mention how Akaashi had been the furthest from him during the Fall (Bokuto thought of it as a proper noun, now) and yet, he’d been the first person leaning over him, the first beside him. The first friend to visit him. The only one to ask him to be truthful and not simply accept that Bokuto was  _fine._

 

* * *

 

When they woke him at six thirty the next morning for breakfast, he tried to forego the food for more sleep. That wasn’t allowed, so he was grudgingly eating fruit when his door opened and, to his surprise, Akaashi banged into the room. He was panting, cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. He was in the Fukurodani team winter jacket, and it swallowed him in a way that Bokuto had always thought was wonderful.

His mouth was full but he mumbled, “Wha’re you doin’ ‘ere?”

Akaashi came towards him, then paused, breathing hard, leaning over to put hands on his knees.

A nurse burst in behind him. “Sir! You can  _not_ run in the hospital.”

Akaashi straightened, holding a stitch in his side, “I’m very sorry.”

The nurse scowled. “Visiting hours aren’t for another five minutes.”

Bokuto pushed himself up, swallowing the large bite, “Let him stay, please!”

“I’m sorry but rules are —”

Akaashi bowed to her, saying in his best respectful tone, “I’ll be gone in two minutes, I swear.”

She eyed him for a long moment, looking less and less angry as the seconds passed. “Hurry,” she said curtly, then turned and walked out, muttering to herself.

Akaashi turned to him and Bokuto nearly shouted, “What are you doing?! You’re going to miss the bus!”

“They won’t leave, I’ve got half an hour. I had to come see you before we left.” He came over, pulling out a small jar from his pocket. “I brought you this.”

Bokuto raised one eyebrow, reaching for it while pushing his food away. “What is it?”

Akaashi’s smile was sad, and proud of himself. “Hair gel.”

Bokuto, astonished, let out a loud laugh. “Really?”

“Yes, I like your hair down but…” and, with this, Akaashi reached out and pulled a strand of Bokuto’s hair through his fingers. “You need your horns back, owl head.” His cheeks were flushed — and whether it was from the cold January air, his jog through the hospital, or … something else, Bokuto didn’t know. He felt his own cheeks color in response but wasn’t embarrassed by it.

“Thanks, Akaashi.” Bokuto didn’t know what to say. It was hair gel, but it was also his little inside joke. In his first year of high school, he had started styling his hair upwards, mostly to keep it out of his eyes. He wasn’t sure he really liked it until, during practice, Konoha had told him he looked like an owl. Then he really liked it, it made him feel like the mascot. Yukie had adored it and, at the time, that had made him feel all fluttery inside. Over time it happened less and less, especially when she reamed him on the head with school books when he forgot to bring her her study notes back that he had borrowed.

Akaashi dropped his hand to Bokuto’s throat, thumb pressed to his jaw in a more intimate gesture than Bokuto had received from anyone in a very long time. He leaned down, touched their cheeks together, and Bokuto felt his breath warm on his face, felt his eyelashes flutter as he closed his eyes. His skin was cold, but it felt amazing on Bokuto’s skin, no matter the temperature.

Bokuto’s breath caught in his throat, his heart skittered to a halt, then began pounding blood into his face. “Akaashi…”

“We’ll bring you back a trophy,” Akaashi whispered. He turned his face, his lips brushed the side of Bokuto’s mouth and Bokuto’s heart and mind literally stopped.

Then Akaashi was pulling away, his hand slipping to his side, the smile on his face met his shining eyes. He looked like an angel in the morning light. Bokuto opened his mouth, closed it, unable to say any of the myriad of things that came to his mind.

“See you on the other side, Captain.” Akaashi turned, glanced back when he was at the door, then walked out, closing the door behind him.

Bokuto sat stunned, his stomach twisting itself in and out, his heart dancing, his leg  _throbbing_ , his mind reeling.

“What the  _fuck,”_ he whispered aloud to the empty room, staring at the door, silently begging Akaashi to come back and give him a proper kiss.


	6. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright boys and girls, for those of you not caught up on the manga, there are major spoilers in the next few chapters. No way around that. SPOILER ALERT HAS BEEN GIVEN.
> 
> Of course, with Bokuto's absence some things will be a bit different. I will take some liberties with things that he was directly involved in. Other matches will be featured in a few conversations, so don't be mad at me for spoilers because I'm warning you now! 
> 
> Obviously, I will take MANY liberties with how Nationals plays out since we don't know how they will end. If, when the arc is over, I'm able to I might come back and edit these next few chapters to reflect the manga. Maybe, maybe not. It all depends on what happens in both. If not, just take all this with that all important suspension of disbelief required for an AU work since that's basically what this is now. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and responses I've received. It means the world to me that so many people are enjoying this, and it only fuels me to write more.

Watching Nationals on television was worse than Bokuto had imagined. It was on two channels and between switching them back and forth, commercials, and the commentators talking over each other Bokuto was more frustrated that he had been since he found out he couldn’t go to the bathroom by himself due to the metal contraption on his foot.

He also couldn’t even  _wear_ his jersey. The IV lines prevented him from changing shirts that weren’t hospital gowns and no matter how much he begged, the nurse wouldn’t take them out for even a minute to let him change. So he held it against his chest, sitting up in bed with the television pulled close so he could see as much as possible.

His team was losing. Konoha was good, but the other team had done their homework well. They knew just how to counter each of his teammates, and Fukurodani was down by six points, on the verge of losing the first set. Eiwa High was at set point and Bokuto was furious. He wanted to  _be there_.

Saru came in from the back and scored with a vicious spike. Bokuto let out the smallest of sighs: just one point closer, please, please, please. In the next rally, to his horror, he saw the ace of Eiwa High come in for a hard cross. Akaashi saw it half a second after him and as Bokuto screamed, “ _Fall back!”_ at the television, Haruki flubbed the receive, the ball flying off of court.

They lost the first set. Bokuto shouted, “Damn it!” and punched his mattress. If only he had been there. If only he wasn’t fucking  _trapped_ in this fucking bed. He was useless, he was worthless; everything he had worked for his entire life was pinned down to this bed with his spirit. He was cursing himself aloud, with words that he had never used in his life, when the nurse came in. She frowned at him, but told him it was time to change his bandages and would he please turn off the television and here’s your lunch, sir.

He didn’t want to, but he clicked the television off, prickling with suppressed rage.

“How’s your pain today?”

Bokuto grumbled, glaring at his reflection in the darkened monitor. “Seven, I guess.”

The nurse nodded. “I know it’s hard, but we have to wean you off the IV’s before you're discharged. Are you excited to go home?”

He didn’t want to talk about going home. He wanted to talk about his team, about the game. “Yes,” he said politely, though, because his mother raised him right.

She looked up at him, nimble hands twisting the tiny gauze strips that protected the pin sites from infection. “What jersey is that?”

“It’s my captains jersey. I’m —” He stopped himself, looking down at it, running a thumb over the number four he had loved for so long. “I was the captain before my accident. Fukurodani Volleyball Club.”

She smiled. “Oh, how nice.”

“My team is at Nationals right now,” he told her, silently begging her to hurry. “They’re on television. I was watching. I hope they can win.”

“Of course, of course." She didn't move much faster, but after what felt like an agonizingly long time she said, "Well, I’m done here.” She finished winding the last gauze strip and pressed it firmly into place. He winced at the still sensitive skin puffed around the rod. “Eat your lunch. Go back to your game. I wish your team the best.” She smiled, cleaned up her bandages, and left him.

By the time he turned the television back on it was showing highlights of already finished games. He admired Karasuno and their win against Tsubakihara but he didn’t care to watch it just now. He wanted to watch  _his_ team. “Go back to the live games!” he shouted through a mouthful of rice.

It did, but it was the court A match, some trade school and Takagi High. Not what he wanted.

He flipped channels, but it was more highlights from Nekoma and the girls teams. He swore again and flipped back and forth, frustrated, until it went back to his team.

They were doing better, having gotten into a rhythm. Akaashi was smart and brave, and scored of two setter dumps in a  _row_. The guy had balls. He set a high ball for Konoha, who broke through a triple block with apparent ease. Bokuto was jealous, proud, sad, too many emotions broiling inside him. He pushed his food away, too distraught to eat.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered. The rallies weren’t long — both teams playing swiftly, with powerful spikes and dynamic plays. Fukurodani took the second set twenty five to twenty.

During the court change the commentary switched to him, and he wasn’t happy about it. They talked about his accident like they had been there, but they didn’t really know what had happened. They knew more or less the extent of his injuries and they speculated about if he would ever return to the sport. He yelled at them through the screen until the nurse came back in and scolded him for being so loud and vulgar in a place of healing.

The third set went by quickly. Fukurodani was in a groove now. Akaashi actually hit a spike set to him by Konoha which gave them an early lead. Bokuto watched, holding his jersey against his face, feeling like a separate entity entirely. He wasn’t a part of the team anymore. They didn’t need him. Maybe, even, they could have won last year if he hadn’t been there. They were kicking ass in this tournament and last year’s captain had been just as good as Bokuto. Maybe he had been in the way all along with his mood swings. He knew he got on their nerves, of course he did, but he pretended to not acknowledge them until he could pull himself out of what they called his  _sad mode_. It wasn’t sad — it was frustrated. He knew he caused them distress, though.

They won with a glorious final play: Akaashi got the first touch, sending the ball in a lovely arc to Konoha, looking to everyone like he was about to hit a killer spike, then at the last moment set it over to Saru who was able to score the winning point blocker free. It was amazing. They had practiced it often enough for it to be flawless.

Bokuto sighed, watching them celebrate on screen. Tears pricked behind his eyes, a small little knife of simultaneous doubt and certainty stabbed at his heart. They didn’t need him. He had only been in the way. They had simply tolerated him this year.

His fist clenched and, in a moment of despair, he smashed his fist into his injured thigh. He screamed when the pain snarled up his body, tearing through the morphine oozing through his system like a bullet through water. He grit his teeth, whining through the pain, and slapped the call button, but the nurse had already heard his shouts.

“Sir, I thought I asked you to—” She stopped when she saw how ashen his skin had become, saw the blood oozing through the gauze on his thigh. “Doctor!” She called into the hall, then ran to his bedside to assess the damage.

Bokuto’s body was trembling, adrenaline trying to dull the agony and failing. There was no fight or flight. He could do neither. He lay back biting down on his lip until blood burst into his mouth as the doctor came in.

The doctor frowned. “You’ve ripped your stitches. We’ll have to fix that. Nurse, get me a syringe of local anesthetic.”

The nurse had already bumped his morphine up and his mind clawed at it, wanting to sleep, wanting to forget, wanting to pretend that the past year had never happened. He didn’t even want to pretend that he was needed anymore — it was too hard. He was a bird trapped in a cage, broken wings taped to his sides with popsicle sticks. It was easier to think that they were better off without him.

They — them — Fukurodani Volleyball Club. Not him. Not anymore. Not  _his team_. Just. Them. Gone. Far away.

Winning... without him.


	7. Home

Bokuto was discharged the next day, but even after all his complaining about the hospital bed he wished he could have stayed in it until he was healed. His wounds had healed just enough to be all the more sensitive to every bump and crack in the floor. The car ride was the worst, every turn of the wheels sent shocks of pain through his body. After he was safely sequestered in bed he doubled his pain medication dose and slept through the throbbing ache of his leg as it settled down into the new position.

When he woke, time didn’t exist in the darkness of his room. He was starving, but he couldn’t seem to open his eyes enough to do anything other than float intermittently in and out of a drug addled sleep. A sound pierced the fog of his sleep. He tried to ignore it, his leg throbbed like a mother fucker and he just wanted to sleep through it.

It dinged again. His eyes opened, the room dark and blurry, but he looked over to his bedside table where his phone lit up with an incoming call.

_Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer..._

He picked it up, saw it was Akaashi. “Shit.” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t  _want_ to talk to him. He wanted to know exactly what that visit in the hospital was all about. He was afraid to know...

Just before the call went to voicemail he clicked it through, pressed it to his ear as his head lolled on the pillow. “Akaashi!” He forced himself to sound normal, he wasn’t quite sure he accomplished it, but forged ahead anyway: “Hey, hey, hey, how’d the game go-”

“CAPTAIN!” Came the tumultuous roar from at least seven guys surrounding the phone. They all started talking at once, yelling at the phone and trying to talk over each other. Bokuto jerked the phone away from his ear and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. His head throbbed and their voices didn’t help the aching go away.

Akaashi raised his voice, “Stop, please.” The Fukurodani team quieted, but he could hear them babbling. “Bokuto-san, you’re at home now, right? The Coach told us you were. We wanted to check on you.”

“I’ve been lazy,” he told them, laughing even though his ribs still hurt. “I slept most of the day.”

“So you didn’t see us play?” Someone asked, Bokuto thought it was Saru, but couldn’t be sure.

“No, sorry.” He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know how their match had gone, it was still too hard for him to distinguish how he felt about losing them.

Haruki began going over a play by play of the game, and was several points in (he talked so fast Bokuto didn’t even understand him) when Akaashi shut him up.

“I’m sure he can watch it online, Haruki. He’s not feeling well.”

Bokuto laughed. “Aw, come on, Akaashi, it’s alright.”

“You need to rest.”

Konoha interjected, “We won our match, though. We’re onto round three. Nekoma and Karasuno won, too. They’re playing each other tomorrow.”

That actually piqued his interest. “Really? So they finally get their fated game then, huh? Good, now Kuroo can shut up about it.”

It was hard for Bokuto to gauge the reactions of his team —  _no,_ he corrected himself,  _his former teammates —_ when he couldn’t see them. This was one reason he hated phone calls. It was hard to judge how the person on the other side of the line reacted and if they believed his false cheerfulness or not.

“Oh,” Akaashi spoke up, “and your disciple wanted me to tell you that he bought his shirt.”

Bokuto frowned, rubbing his forehead with his fingers, trying to alleviate the headache. “What shirt?”

Several people chuckled. Akaashi sighed and said, “ _The Wisdom of the Ace_ t-shirt you wear all the damn time. He bought one and was very upset to learn of your injuries. He, and the whole Karasuno team, send their regards and well wishes.”

Konoha was saying, “Dude, you should see Shrimpy. He’s gotten a little scary.”

“He always was scary, did you see him at the last practice we had?” Wataru asked.

“Well, yeah, but he’s even better now. It’s weird — he really is a little freak.” But Konoha said it with a grudging respect.

“Oh, Bokuto-san, he also used your  _special move_ ,” Akaashi said, voice dripping with something close to annoyance.

Bokuto actually laughed aloud, a real laugh. It hurt his ribs and he had to stop to cough for a few moments before he managed, “Really?”

“Yes, and he scored, too.”

“What?!” Bokuto sat up, giddy. He really did like that kid. “What about Tsukki?”

“Well, actually… do you know who their match was against today?”

“No, I haven’t seen any news.”

“...The Miya twins.”

“Ah, shit,” Bokuto said, then: “Wait! You said they won! Wait, wait, wait.” He groaned as he reached over to his desk, straining, trying not to fall out of bed, and snatched his laptop over. Opening it, he struggled to cradle his phone on his shoulder, type into his laptop, and listen to Akaashi talk.

“They did, by a hair. The Twins copied that oddball quick. It was scary at first, Karasuno didn’t know what to do. But Tsukishima —”

“Tsukki,” Bokuto corrected.

Akaashi huffed. “Tsuki _shima_ caught up quickly, though. He blocked a few. I’m surprised Kuroo hasn’t called you to gloat.”

Bokuto had found a news article and skimmed it, “Oh, there’s video! I’ll call you back after I watch—”

“No, no,” Akaashi said quickly. “Don’t. We have to go over things for tomorrow and go to sleep early.”

“You never go to sleep early, Akaashi.”

“Still. You need rest.”

Bokuto paused, wanting to ask him about the weird  _kiss not kiss_ but he knew he was still on speaker phone. “Well,” he said instead, “you guys better win tomorrow, too!”

“Duh,” Konoha said loudly. “You got us this far, Captain, we won’t let you down.”

They hung up after a long series of goodbyes and Bokuto spent several minutes debating on whether or not to watch their game. When he found it streaming in full, he couldn’t resist, and spent an hour watching them win in straight sets against Morikawa. Fukurodani was a machine by now, playing flawlessly. Bokuto had known they were good, they used to play together after all, but seeing it from afar made him all the more impressed. He was sure they would win, no matter who stood in their way.


	8. Battle

On the third day of Nationals, Bokuto was nervous. Fukurodani’s match wasn’t for a few hours so he thought Akaashi would go to watch their friends match. He wanted to call him, find out if they could watch together, in a sense, like they used to.

His laptop was beside him, streaming the tournament live. The teams were warming up and Bokuto was getting twitchy. He wanted to play against Karasuno and Nekoma too, in more than just a practice match. Every time he played Nekoma it was always a fun, great match because they were an amazing team. Kuroo, Yaku, and Kenma were freaking scary, but the rest of the team was great, too. He liked breaking through Kuroo’s stupid blocking face and pissing him off when it was too easy. He’d never get to play them again.  _Damn it all._   _Damn this leg._

His phone buzzed and he was pleased to see it was Akaashi texting him,  _are you awake?_

He called Akaashi immediately. “Are you there, are you watching?”

“It hasn’t started yet, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto groaned in frustration. “Official warm-ups have. Are you in the stadium?” He could hear the babble of the crowd. “Ah-ha! You are. I hear that sweet sweet crowd!”

He heard Akaashi’s soft laugh. That laugh was suddenly doing things to Bokuto’s insides that it hadn’t before.

“Yes, I am. I’m trying to get a good view. I assume you’ve found it on television?”

“You know it; now hurry up. Whoever wins, you think you guys will play them?”

Akaashi was muttering apologies to someone as he moved past them. “If we can win our match then yes, we’ll play the winners this evening.”

Bokuto shifted nervously. “I want to play.”

“I know you do, Bokuto-san.”

“If you play Karasuno, watch out for Tsukki.”

Akaashi must have found his seat. “I know. You’ll watch us play, right? The team likes to imagine you watching. It makes them feel more motivated.”

“... Really?”

“Well, yes, you’re our captain.”

Bokuto huffed, aggravated. “Stop saying that, I’m  _not._ ”

“You are, don’t argue with me.” Akaashi’s tone was sharp, just as frustrated with Bokuto as Bokuto was with himself. “They’re about to start. Kageyama is first to serve.”

Sitting up, Bokuto pulled his laptop closer and leaned down to peer at the court. He wished he was  _there_. Watching on television wasn’t the same and it wasn’t fun and it wasn’t  _right_. He was supposed to be there, playing, absorbing the cheers from the crowd, showing off his best moves. And then the game begun; the rally was lightning fast, right off the bat. The broadcast flipped from camera to camera as they followed the ball. Or tried to — both teams played so fast they left the broadcast team behind.

“Damn, dude, damn, dude,  _damn!”_ Bokuto shouted into the phone as the camera panned back to reveal the entire court just as Hinata and Kageyama pulled their freak quick and slammed a spike down to take the first point of the game.

Akaashi was excited, Bokuto could hear it in his voice. “They’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“Urgggh,” Bokuto groaned, punching his mattress. “No fair! I want to play them!” He reiterated with more feeling as watching his friends on the court made his own desire multiply tenfold.

Akaashi laughed. “Me too, Bokuto-san. It would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes!” He shrieked, “Oh! Look, the big cat scored!”

“Big cat?”

“The big tall kid. What is he, Russian?”

“Oh, Lev. Yes, he’s tall enough to reach those high balls and hit right over the blockers.”

Bokuto laughed, giddy. “Poor Hinata.”

Several points later, Kuroo and Tsukishima were both in the front row. Bokuto squinted at the screen as if he could see better that way.

“Ah.” Akaashi chuckled. “Kuroo is probably being snarky to Tsukishima again.”

“Come on, Tsukki!” Bokuto screamed. “Don’t let that rooster head cat beat you! Oh my god, that little freckle kid got a service ace against Nekoma! Come on, come on, one more!”

Akaashi said, “No way, they won’t get another. Yaku won’t let them. Ah, I was right.”

“Damn you!” Bokuto laughed, jubilant. “Oh, Kuroo’s coming — get it Tsukki!” He threw his arms in the air, accidentally tossing his phone, cheering as Tsukishima successfully blocked a surprise attack from Fukunaga.

He punched the air, scrambled for his phone and yelled into it, “That’s our Tsukki, Akaashi!”

“Tsukishima is not ours, Bokuto-san.”

“Did you see, though?! Tsukki’s gotten so good! Did you  _see_?”

“I did, it was nice.”

“It was  _amazing!_ ”

 

* * *

 

No matter how amazing Tsukishima’s blocking was, Nekoma still took the first set.

“Damn!” Bokuto laughed. “What a trick! Kozume is quite the little deviant.”

Akaashi was frustrated. “I can’t decide if that was dirty or clever. Karasuno’s entire team philosophy worked against them on that one. Everyone was focused on the next attack before they connected the ball.”

“That’s rough for Karasuno.” Bokuto grinned. “They’re gonna be even more frustrated now.”

“Very much so.”

Bokuto’s mother came into his room. “Koutarou, the nurse is here.”

He stared at her, appalled. “But the match —”

She gave him her motherly  _don’t start with me_ look. Bokuto muttered into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” He hung up, and, after a pointless argument which he inevitably lost, he had to turn off the stream as well.

“You can go back to it afterwards,” his mother said. 

The nurse came in, then, and introductions were passed around. The nurse would be there every day to help care for him while his parents were back at work. His bandages needed to be changed three times a day, medication doled out, food to be served, all the ins and outs of a bedridden, grumpy patient to be taken care of. This entire process of introductions, schedules, bandage changing, and exit took an entire half hour and Bokuto was fidgeting and squirming with impatience by the end of it.

He was dialing Akaashi before he even had the game pulled back up. “What’s happening?!”

Akaashi said quickly, “Karasuno took back the second set.”

“Really?” Bokuto shouted, “Dammit, dammit, the stream is taking forever to load. What happened?”

Akaashi laughed again, sounding a bit proud when he said, “Hinata.”

“W-What? Explain.”

“Hinata scored by getting a great receive on a spike from Yamamoto.”

“ _Whaaaaaaat?!_ Did he really?”

“He absolutely did. Find the replay, you’ll be proud of your disciple.”

“That little son of a bitch, I can’t freaking believe it.”

“Now, Bokuto-san, I have to go,” Akaashi said, gently, because he knew Bokuto would be sad.

“No, no, no — they’re going into the third set.” Bokuto moaned, “Don’t leave me alone.”  _I’ve still got to ask you something._

“I have to.” Akaashi was moving through the crowd, Bokuto could hear it in the way he breathed. “Our match is about to start.”

Bokuto was quiet, nervous all over again. “That time already?”

“You’ll watch, right?”

“Of course.” He paused, glancing at the laptop as the stream loaded. “Good luck, Akaashi.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Don’t—”

“Goodbye, Captain. Keep me updated on Nekoma and Karasuno.”

“I’ll …” Bokuto didn’t want him to go. He needed to watch the game with him. “I’ll text you...”

“Sounds good, Bokuto-san. Talk to you later.”

“Wait—” The line went quiet and Bokuto sighed, staring at the phone in his hand. “...Bye.”

His chest felt heavier than usual and he wished he had been brave enough to ask why Akaashi had almost kissed him. Why he hadn’t actually kissed him. If he wanted to kiss him. Bokuto watched as the third set started, scanning the crowd for Akaashi. He thought he saw the big white winter coat, and his hands nervously twitched for a moment, but then the camera flicked back to the game and the moment was gone.

Then Hinata rebounded the ball off of Lev’s fingers and the match went on without anyone for Bokuto to talk to about it.


	9. Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I HAD to pick a winner for Battle of the Trash Heap. At first I tried to pick who, in my heart, I believed would win. That didn't work. Then I did some research and tried to make a logical decision based on what we know and a bunch of people's arguments... but I still couldn't decide. I want them both to win.  
> So I literally flipped a coin and used that to decide. That's all. It broke my heart to write that sentence because I love BOTH the teams. Ugh... someone send me cookies or something.
> 
> (Update after The Battle ended: AHAHA I WAS RIGHT.)

Both Karasuno and Fukurodani won their their third round matches, and would play in the quarter-finals in the evening. Bokuto was nervous and excited and _furious_ that he couldn’t participate in the match himself. Hinata was a different animal from the practice matches, he could see it in the way the kid played, the way he moved. He’d gotten better at receives and Bokuto wondered if Hinata could save one of  _his_ spikes. He’d love to find out.

Ten minutes before warm-ups started he texted Akaashi,  _good luck._

Immediately he got a response:  _thank you, captain._

Bokuto sighed, frustrated, he couldn’t seem to get them to stop calling him that. He spent too long trying to think of what he could say back, but by the time he had decided official warm ups had started. Karasuno was in that gaudy orange color, and Bokuto realized (again? for the first time?) how nice Fukurodani’s team looked in black, especially Akaashi. Nice and intimidating. Bokuto wore his own jersey now, and clenched a fist in the fabric, trying to telepathically tell the team that he was there with them.

The game begun, and Bokuto squirmed, pulling his laptop close to his face. Damn, had Akaashi always been so graceful in the way he moved or was he only just now noticing?

Karasuno scored. He swore loudly. But it was Tsukki with a block so he was happy! He rubbed his hands over his face, groaning, “This is tooorture...”

As the first set continued, Konoha began to show off, he even yelled Bokuto’s signature, “Hey, hey,  _heeey_ ,” tauntingly to Karasuno, and Bokuto couldn’t help but laugh at the face Tsukki made. Just as Fukurodani was at set point, the nurse came in, telling him it was time for breakfast and to change the bandages around the pins.

Bokuto turned down the volume and set his laptop aside, but didn’t turn it off. “Good morning,” he said politely, hoping that if he was extra nice he could keep it on.

She laughed, and waved a hand at the screen. “What is it?” The woman was petite, older than his mother, but very kind. He had learned yesterday that she had a son about his age and she was quite talkative when she wanted to be.

“My team!” Bokuto beamed, touching a hand to his chest proudly. “They’re at the national tournament.” He turned the screen to show her and she pulled on her glasses to squint at the screen. “My team is in black, but the orange team are also friends of ours.”

She nodded. “Ah, and who do you want to win?” She smiled, more mischievous than Bokuto would have expected.

“My team, of course.”

She laughed, and began unwrapping the bandages around the pins. Bokuto flinched every time, since over night the antibiotic had dried and stuck to his skin, and to try and ignore it he said, “We’ve got an amazing setter, he’s my best friend. He’s really good at tricking people, too. Plus, we’ve got a really tall first year and he’s pretty good.” He could tell that the nurse didn’t know what he was talking about but he continued anyway, because he had to talk about them or it would eat him from the inside out, “And my other friend Konoha is obnoxious, although I think I taught him that, he’s loud and he’s got a great straight. We used to have contests to see who could hit it better, or hit the line closer, things like that. I won, obviously.” He glanced at the screen and shrieked, “What!?”

The nurse jumped, startled. “What?” She looked down at the pins. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, no, no.” Bokuto deflated completely. “Karasuno took the first set….  _how?_ ” He hadn’t been paying attention, distracted by the nurse and bragging about his team.

The nurse made a  _tsk tsk_ noise. “You know, I’ve had one other patient with injuries like this.”

He looked at her, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yes. He was a bit older than you.” She didn’t get distracted, and was deftly re-wrapping the bandages soaked in the orange colored antibacterial liquid. “Hiking accident, I believe. Fell right off a cliff.” She patted his leg gently, with a nurses touch, so that he felt it but it caused no pain. “He ended up running a few national marathons.”

Bokuto breathed out a sigh. “That’s great…” He felt a small bubble of hope rising in his chest. He didn’t want to run marathons, of course, but to play volleyball again. It was the same, though, right?

“He worked very hard on his recovery. But,” and she tapped his foot a bit harder with a finger, making him wince, “he ate his meals. He did his rehab. He didn’t strain himself and re-injure anything. Understand?”

Bokuto reached over and took the plate. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled and gathered up the remains of the bandages. “I’ll leave you to your game. I’m in the kitchen working on paperwork if you need me. Just call and I’ll come.”

He nodded, looking back at the screen as the second set started. The nurse stopped at the door and cleared her throat pointedly and didn’t leave until he had eaten a bite of his food.

 

* * *

 

Bokuto spent the rest of the game alternatively cheering or watching through his fingers. His favorite moment was by and far when Akaashi leapt for the ball, smacking it one handed back to Saru as he crashed into the side of the court. He had jumped right back up and ran back to the game just as Karasuno’s number five tried for a straight and Akaashi had got it right back up in the air. Bokuto bemoaned his goddamn leg  _again_ because he wanted to hug Akaashi for that amazing play and then take him to the sidelines to make sure his shoulder was okay. He was fine, or at least he was allowed to keep playing.

It didn’t matter, though. Even though Bokuto screamed tips to Fukurodani, and they won the second set, Karasuno snatched the game at the last moment. The third one played until almost thirty five points; both teams were exhausted by the end of it and Tsukki collapsed as the final whistle blew after Asahi had painted the line with a powerful spike.

“Damn,” Bokuto muttered. “Damn damn damn it…” The camera’s focused on Karasuno’s victory celebrations for a moment before flicking to the Fukurodani team as they thanked their crowd for cheering them on. Bokuto bit down on his jersey, trying to stop his own tears from falling. He wouldn’t cry — he wasn’t even there, his game had been over weeks ago, there was no reason — the other third years weren’t even crying. Konoha was laughing at something Saru said to him. Haruki was waving to someone in the crowd.

He wiped the tears away as they fell, cursing himself. The team would be totally different next year. All first years and Akaashi. Akaashi would be captain, he would lead them to victory.


	10. Close

Three days, four more games, and Itachiyama came out on top of Nationals, as too many expected.

Bokuto snarled in his bed, wringing his pillow through his hand. “Sakusa… I hate that guy…”

“No, you don’t,” Akaashi said through the phone.

Bokuto grumbled. “No, I don’t. I wish I could …”

After a moment in which Bokuto’s desire and longing hung in the air Akaashi said, “I know, Bokuto-san.” It was Akaashi’s way of acknowledging Bokuto’s frustrations, but there was nothing else to say. He couldn’t tell him there would be a next time, or another chance. They both knew it, but Akaashi was quick to tell him often that they would still play together when Bokuto was able to play again.

“Did you watch the closing ceremonies?”

“No, I was too mad.”

Akaashi laughed softly. “You’re ridiculous. He won best overall player.”

“No!” Bokuto gasped.

“Mhm-hmm. It was expected, though.”

Bokuto laid back on his pillows, rubbing his thigh with his free hand, massaging around the puffy black stitches. He’d been in bed over three weeks now, feeling not only his muscles weakening, but his mind and his will as well. He wasn’t all together sure he could do this much longer, just lay in bed feeling like he was dying. His hand involuntarily squeezed his thigh, causing pain, and waking his mind up a bit as it struggled to understand and rectify the injury.

“Hey, ‘kaashi…” Bokuto said, voice dropping to a whisper without his consent; but this was a secret, wasn’t it? It was an intimate thing he wanted to discuss. Intimacy dictates whispers. “Can I ask you something?” Akaashi hummed an affirmative so Bokuto continued, nervously, with various stops and starts on his part. “I… Do you…. Why ….” He huffed, squeezed his leg again. “Akaashi, why did you … almost —”

“Not now, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi cut him off.

“You don’t even know what I wanted to ask.”

“Of course I do,” he sighed. “I’m surprised it took you so long, honestly. But I can’t talk about that right now.”

Bokuto mumbled, distraught. “Why not?”

Akaashi’s voice lowered, getting annoyed, “I’m on the  _bus_.”

“Oh.” Duh, he thought to himself, knocking his fist into his forehead. “Sorry. But…”

“I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Unless the forces of nature keep me away, yes; I promise.”

Bokuto smiled at Akaashi’s overdramatic way of making promises. “...Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Akaashi was sitting beside him, close enough that their legs and shoulders were touching. Bokuto kept glancing over at him, wanting to talk to him. Akaashi was focused on the television, though, and the movies Konoha had brought.

That morning Bokuto had been surprised to find not only Akaashi at his door, but Konoha, Saru, Yukie, and Haruki. Akaashi kept a politely blank face throughout the day as they watched movie after movie, stupid movies, comedies, horror movies. Haruki kept throwing popcorn at the screen at parts he didn’t like until Yukie told him to clean it up or he was kicked out.

Bokuto leaned casually against Akaashi’s shoulder, dropping his head into the pillow in his lap to hide his grin when Akaashi leaned back. During a particularly frightening jump scare near the end of the movie, Bokuto had never seen it and he had never liked scary movies, he hooked an arm around Akaashi’s neck and pulled him tight against his side. He had done this a hundred thousand times in the course of their friendship but now…

Now, Bokuto could feel the softness of Akaashi’s cheek against his chest, the warmth of his body soaking into Bokuto’s ribs. Now, his heart was pounding … and it wasn’t from the movie. The movie was forgotten as he looked down at the gentle curve of Akaashi’s cheek, the shape of his mouth. The color of Akaashi’s eyes fascinated him — blue, green, gray, some lovely mysterious color that belonged only to him. The Color of Akashi, Bokuto thought.

Then those eyes turned on him, and Bokuto blushed, warm all over. Akaashi’s lips curved upward in his sly smile, eyes narrowing as if he was reading Bokuto’s frazzled thoughts.

A scream tore from the television and Bokuto, caught unaware, yelped and yanked his arm tight. Akaashi let out a groan. “Bokuto-san,” he pushed against Bokuto’s shoulder, “Let me go, you’re strangling me!”

Everyone laughed at his terror and Bokuto let Akaashi go with a grumble and a huff.“Stupid movie…”

Konoha cackled. “You sure you’re not from Nekoma?” Bokuto stared at him, uncomprehending. “Cause you’re a big ol’ pussy?”

Bokuto threw a pillow at him. “Asshole!”

When the movie was over, they began discussing their college plans. Haruki and Saru were taking their college entrance exam in a few days and they both admitted they should be studying but they both wanted to come visit him and take a break from everything for a day.

“I’m travelling,” Konoha admitted, proud and ashamed.

Yukie looked shocked. “Really? Where?”

“America, I think. It seems fun.”

She frowned, obviously concerned for his future. “Is that why your parents are angry?”

Konoha scowled at her, then took a moment to control his face and tone. “Yeah,” he shrugged, leaning back on his elbows, “but my little brother is a lot smarter than me. He can make them happy.”

She watched him for a moment too long, then said in a quiet voice, “Keep in touch, yeah?”

Bokuto and Akaashi exchanged knowing glances. It was common knowledge to everyone on the team  _except_ Konoha that Yukie had a long standing crush on him.

“Sure.” Konoha smiled, reaching over and touching her hand. “Of course I will. Maybe I’ll bring you on vacation one week when you’re free.”

That started a whirlwind of discussion on the best places to travel, and everyone had differing opinions. 

As evening fell, Bokuto’s mother poked her head in, “Koutarou, your friends need to go now,” she said it kindly, but firmly.

Bokuto’s face fell. He had gone so long without his friends that their leaving was like tearing off a piece of some very important organ.

“They can come back tomorrow,” she said quickly. “But it’s quite late.”

His friends stood, Yukie leaning down to give Bokuto a proper hug since his ribs weren’t broken anymore. She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon, owl head.” Then she patted his spiky hair and grinned at him before she and Konoha left together, still talking quietly. Haruki and Saru took their exit shortly after, leaving Akaashi and Bokuto alone together for the first time since the hospital.

Bokuto’s insides were out of control. He was sweating, shivering, nervous and excited. He couldn’t contain himself, his breath came in shaky little gasps and he pressed a pillow to his mouth to hide it.

Akaashi hadn’t moved from his spot directly beside Bokuto, but he wouldn’t look at him any longer. His face, always unreadable to Bokuto, was an enigma. His brows were drawn down over his eyes, his fingers wrung together, lips pursed. Bokuto thought this was not the face of someone happy with their actions.

He moved his hand over, touched Akaashi’s arm. “If you didn’t mean —”

His mother came back into his room. “Boys, it’s almost midnight. This is ridiculous.”

Akaashi extricated himself from Bokuto’s side and stood. “Sorry,” he said, though to who, Bokuto couldn’t tell.

Bokuto reached out and clasped Akaashi’s wrist. “Come back tomorrow?” he heard the desperation in his own voice… wondered what it sounded like to Akaashi.

“I… I can’t,” Akaashi said, looking back and looking genuinely sad. “I’m sorry.”

Bokuto paled, his stomach dropping to the floor, “What? Why?”

A little unhappy laugh. “School starts tomorrow.”

His mother’s voice from somewhere else in the house: “Boys!”

Akaashi turned his hand to wrap his long, slender fingers around Bokuto’s wrist. “Next time, Bokuto…” He slipped away then, calm as ever.

Bokuto watched him go, then turned and hoisted himself up onto his arms to peer out his window and watch Akaashi leave his house, bundled up in his big jacket and little beanie that Bokuto had always liked, and on one memorable occasion stolen for a weekend.  _But this was supposed to be our time_.


	11. Life

Akaashi gazed out the classroom window, frustrated that he had to be here today. Normally he liked school well enough, but he had too much on his mind now to care overmuch for learning. Snow fell outside, melting in droplets against the warmth of the window.

He looked down at the papers on his desk, glanced over the new roster of the volleyball club without the third years. A roster without Bokuto. It was strange and frustrating to see, even though he always knew it would be this way. He was captain now, with more responsibilities, and he wasn’t sure how to do all of it. He wasn’t the type of leader Bokuto had been. Bokuto could bring people together, give them all a common goal other than simply  _winning_.

He dropped his head onto his desk, at a complete loss. To top it off, Bokuto kept texting him. All day, about everything and nothing, even going so far as to text him freaking  _owl memes._ Everything except what Bokuto wanted to talk about.

God, he had been so stupid to try and kiss him at the hospital. He wanted to, had even planned it out… but the moment he tried to execute his plan he chickened out. He knocked his head against his desk in frustration.  _Coward_ , he thought,  _you’re a damn coward._

Maybe it was because he couldn’t get the image of Bokuto’s broken body out of his mind. Akaashi had nightmares about it every night, about seeing him fall; running, running, running, being too late, but what could he do anyway. Bokuto lay lifeless, not breathing. Akaashi screamed, hunched over him, clutching his shirt, running a hand through Bokuto’s hair and trying to cradle his head in his hand. Blood soaked his fingers and Akaashi moaned in fear.

Someone shouted above him, then tugged on his shoulder. “Move, move.”

Akaashi jerked away, laid his body over Bokuto’s, as if to protect him from any more harm. “Koutarou, please, don’t —”

“Move!” Konoha yanked him back, phone held to his ear. “Dumbass, stop, I’m trying to help!” He shoved Akaashi aside, said into the phone as he pressed his finger to Bokuto’s throat, “No, I don’t feel one.” He listened for a moment, frowning. “But I don’t know CPR.”

Akaashi stared, uncomprehending, until his mind finally caught up and he bolted forward, curling his fingers over one another and leaning over Bokuto’s chest.

Kohoana yelled, “What are you doing!?”

“I know how to do it…” Akaashi muttered, and began compressing Bokuto’s chest in a steady rhythm, counting under his breath. Several pops followed his compressions and Akaashi swallowed a sob — broken ribs were nothing if he could live. He avoided looking at Bokuto’s leg, knowing it was worse, knowing he couldn't fix it. But… if he could live… it would be enough. It  _had_ to be enough.

Konoha was talking to the operator, telling the medical personnel where they were. People were crowding around, gasping, talking, crying. Yukie was sobbing over him and Akaashi wanted to scream at her. He leaned down, covering Bokuto’s mouth with his own, attempting to breathe life back into his best friend.

He did this over and over, chest compressions and breaths, until his arms gave out, sweat trickled down his nose, blood stained his fingers. His breath was coming hard, fast, and heavy as if he had just finished a grueling game.

Konoha nudged him over. “Talk me through it. The operator said we can’t stop until the medics get here or he starts breathing on his own again.”

Between his hiccuping sobs Akaashi managed to tell him how to do it and, amongst the two of them, they kept Bokuto’s heart pumping and oxygen trickling through his veins until he made a pitiful choking sound and drew in a gasping half breath. But it was life.

Akaashi leaned over him, hands on his cheeks. “Bokuto!” He waited, panic like lead in his stomach, until Bokuto began breathing a slow and steady rhythm. His chest made wet, gurgling sounds and Akaashi began to shake with fear.

The medics came then, four of them, who worked in tandem to get Bokuto on a stretcher and take him away. He woke halfway through and his screaming stabbed right through Akaashi’s last barrier, and he broke, collapsing against Konoha and Saru as Bokuto was hoisted into the ambulance and taken away.

Konoha was the one to take him away, practically carrying him. Akaashi sobbed the entire way home, unable to comprehend life without Bokuto. Konoha didn’t say anything, didn’t interrupt or try to say everything would be okay. They didn’t know if it would be, after all.

Instead, at Akaashi’s house, in an uncommonly intimate gesture, he wrapped his arms around Akaashi and held him, let him cry, told him funny stories about Bokuto from before Akaashi had been on the team, until Coach called Akaashi and told them that Bokuto would live.

“Is he going to be alright?” Akaashi asked into the phone, rubbing his eyes with the back of his wrist. Konoha leaned close to hear.

“I don’t know all the details, kids, but he’s in surgery right now. I don’t… know what they’re going to do about his leg. They wouldn’t tell me. But he’s going to live.”

Akaashi pressed his hand to his mouth, teeth biting skin, to not scream.  _Lose his leg?_

Coach was saying, “The girl in the ambulance said you two probably saved his life.”

Akaashi handed the phone to Konoha, stumbled to his feet, and staggered drunkenly to his bedroom. Every breath he managed was a hiccup, coupled with a broken whimper as his legs buckled, sending him toppling to the floor. Bokuto’s blood stained his shirt and he ripped it off, curling into a ball as he heaved. He could taste metal in his mouth and he realized he’d bitten the inside of his lip. He raised his hands, balked at the blood still there, dark with age. They began to shake and he clutched them to his chest.

Bokuto would live. He would live. He was alive. The weight of it hit him, the weight of that almost destruction of his world, the lifting of which that he couldn’t wrap his brain around.

The door opened and Konoha came in, crouching beside him, hand on his shoulder. “Come on, it’s alright now.”

“He—” Akaashi buried his face in his arms. “I’m sorry…” His emotional reserves were so drained, he couldn’t even feel embarrassed crying like a child in front of his upperclassman.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Konoha said, matter of factly. “Get up now, you’ve got to get clean and get to bed. You look awful. Rest will help. I’ll get you a warm compress or something.”

Akaashi sniffled, sitting up, unable to meet his eye. “I’ll be alright…” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, not caring about the blood, only wanting to keep his eyeballs from popping out of his skull. “My head hurts…”

“I bet it does.” Konoha chuckled, trying to keep everything light hearted.

The bell sounded and Akaashi lifted his head. He had been dreaming, again. Glancing around, he hoped no one saw him drooling on his sleeve, and gathered his things. It was time to go to volleyball practice. Without Bokuto. Why was it that every time he played it felt like a betrayal?

Bokuto texted him just as Akaashi was leaving his phone in the club room.

_have fun at practice. hit some good spikes for me!_


	12. Confession

It took almost a week for Akaashi to come over again. There wasn’t enough time between school, practice, and the private tutor that Bokuto’s parents hired to teach him so that his mind didn’t rot and so he could take college entrance exams next year, hopefully. Everything was a  _hopefully_ in Bokuto’s life now… nothing was certain. Everything depended on how his leg healed and how much time it would take.

Now, on the weekend, nearly five days since they had seen each other, Akaashi sat beside Bokuto’s bed, leaning against it with his knees pulled up to his chin. Bokuto leaned over as far as was safe, trying to see his face. It was the first time that they had been _awkward_ since they had known each other. Bokuto wanted to smack him with a pillow, but he didn’t think now was the time for that, unfortunately, even if he could hear the frustrated squawk Akaashi would make as he yanked the pillow away and retaliated.

“Are you going to talk to me?” Bokuto asked instead, leaning forward further even though it pained both his leg and his back.

Akaashi sighed, hugging his legs closer. He really was troubled and Bokuto wanted to hug him better. Or tell him a funny joke — something about owls, that always amused them both even though Akaashi pretended it didn’t.

“I don’t think you understand — what —” He stopped, pushing his hand against his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut and Bokuto blanched, reaching out and touching Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi pulled away, springing up, pacing around the small bedroom.

Bokuto watched him, pissed off because he couldn’t just catch him and make him stand still and look at him. “You can talk to me.”

Akaashi cut him with a look, but Bokuto  _looked_ right back, chest puffed with his anger and trying to silently assure Akaashi that he wouldn’t break. They wouldn’t lose each other over this, if that’s what he was afraid of.

“I’m the one that broke your ribs,” Akaashi blurted, fast, like a confession.

Bokuto stared at him, then laughed. “I know.”

“You know?”

“Of course. They told me.” He reached for Akaashi, who stubbornly stood out of reach. “You saved me.”

“But I — I couldn’t help…” Akaashi had a pinched look to his face that Bokuto had never seen before.

“You. Saved. My. Life.” Bokuto said firmly, flexing his fingers, beckoning.

Akaashi came closer but didn’t take his hand. Too soon, maybe. “I thought you were  _dead._ ”

Bokuto lowered his hand and laid it palm up on the bed, an invitation. Akaashi breathed out, something more significant than a sigh, like his soul was just now coming up for air and finding it a difficult thing to obtain. “You… You weren’t breathing. You didn’t have a pulse. The ambulance was fifteen...twenty minutes away. Your…” Akaashi reached up and touched the back of his own head. “There was so much blood....it stained my fingers…” His voice shook with suppressed fear only now able to rear itself to be noticed even against Akaashi’s will.

Bokuto stared at him, for once in his boisterous life at a loss for words. He kept a running list of clever or funny things to say, stupid things, things that would break the ice in the event of silence. Nothing he could say would be alright, so he just waited, patient, trying not to interrupt because Akaashi’s face was pale and his voice trembled and his hands shook and he needed to get it out.

“I watched them take you away and I thought… I thought that was it. I thought I’d seen the last of you. I thought…” His hands came together against his chest, curled in on one another, like he was holding something fragile in the cage of his fingers and didn’t want to break it. Maybe it was his metaphorical heart. “I was so sure you were gone forever and I’d never talk to you again. I’d never see you, or hear you laugh, or,” his eyes danced away, landing everywhere but Bokuto, “see the way your eyes light up when we talk. I — I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand it. Konoha had to carry me to the car.”

Bokuto knew all of this, Konoha had told him during a hospital visit where he snuck Bokuto his favorite onigiri. Konoha had praised how Akaashi had saved him, how Akaashi had pushed himself past the point of exhaustion and still continued. How he had picked himself up and showed up at practice the next day, perfectly poised, telling everyone they should go home and pray for Bokuto, or something. Konoha had said his eyes had been red and swollen but he had been steady in his resolve to keep Bokuto alive with healing words.

“Akaashi, please,” Bokuto said gently, “don’t beat yourself up because of something  _I_ fucked up.”

Akaashi’s eyebrows drew down in confusion and frustration. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, but ... “ Now Bokuto looked away, ashamed. “It might not have been so bad if I had been more careful.” If he had taken five  _fucking_ seconds to hook one thing into place.

“Careful is not your style, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto laughed, a loud sound in the anxious air, “You know me well.” He clenched a fist beside his thigh, steeling himself. “But you still didn’t tell me why you… almost —“

Akaashi huffed out a sigh now, a sound of longing, “God, I wanted to. I just… I was too scared.”

“I wouldn’t have hit you or anything.”

“I was scared of… what it meant. What it could mean. I care a lot for you, Bokuto.”

Bokuto smiled, feeling a twist of tightness loosen a coil inside his chest. “Me too.” He blinked, and added: “But for you, obviously.”

It was Akaashi’s turn to laugh, dropping his face into his hands and shaking with it. He opened the protection of his fingers to look at him. “You’re too much.”

“What?!”

“I mean…”

Bokuto cut him off, waving an arm. “Stop. Come here and talk to me. I don’t like that I can’t reach you. I feel like a bear in a trap.”

Akaashi said too quickly, “Don’t you mean an owl?”

Bokuto slapped his mattress, trying not to laugh and failing. “Come here!” He was smiling, he couldn’t help it. Akaashi had always made him laugh. Akaashi did, sitting on the edge of the bed and deflating now, the weight laying itself back onto his frame. Bokuto hated it, wanted to take it away, to shoulder it himself.

“I just mean,” Akaashi said, seeming to gather himself more, “I know that once you heal, you’re going back to volleyball, right?”

Bokuto nodded, not sure where this was going but curious to find out. “It’s the only thing I want.”

“You’ll go to college, right? To play? And everyone will see just how beau— how wonderful you are. How much you’ve overcome and how much you’ve accomplished. And you’ll travel with a new team, and you’ll live a wonderful life full of — of so much wonder and excitement.”

Bokuto frowned at him. The assessment wasn’t wrong, he supposed. That was, technically, his plan. He noticed the way Akaashi stumbled over his words, was he going to say beautiful? What a sap. Bokuto loved it. “And? What does that have to do with —“

“Exactly.” Akaashi twisted to look at him, eyes hard and a bit shinier than normal. Bokuto blinked, taken aback. “It doesn’t have  _anything_ to do with me. You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone but yourself and I’m so — It’s so amazing that you can do that. You make friends wherever you go so you don’t  _need_ anyone.”

“Akaashi, c’mon —“

“Don’t  _c’mon_ me. It’s true. I can’t — I don’t want to…” His mouth trembled and he turned away. “I don’t want to start something and then… lose it. It would hurt too much. I would hurt too much and I don’t like letting myself get hurt. I’ve got more self-preservation than that.”

Bokuto reached out, turned his hand to brush his fingers over Akaashi’s arm. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away, so Bokuto curled his hand around his elbow and held him firm so he wouldn’t escape again. “You think I’d hurt you?” Bokuto asked, pain in his tone. How could Akaashi think that?

“You wouldn’t mean to. You’re such a good person you never mean to hurt anyone.”

“Except that time I smacked a ball right into that Shinzen kid’s face because he was being an asshole.” Bokuto grinned, trying to take that pained look off Akaashi’s face.

It didn’t work. He pulled his arm away so he could lean his elbows on his knees and drop his whole head into his hands. His fingers pressed into his eye sockets, it looked painful but Akaashi was silent.

“Sorry,” Bokuto muttered. “Habit…trying to make you smile…”

“I know,” Akaashi whispered, his mouth turning up at the corners, then dipping deeper like he was trying to stop himself from crying. “You’re always making me laugh. That’s how you got me.” He shuddered out a breath, chest hitching in a way that made Bokuto’s stomach twist and fill with something hot and heavy. “But… if we did this, if we started…  _dating…_ then when you go off to enrapture the world, when I go off to college for something dumb like math or business or something… and when we’re apart … it will hurt. Worse than if we just stay friends who are destined to drift apart after high school.”

Bokuto hesitated. Yeah, okay, that made sense from a logical standpoint but… “Do you really want us to drift apart?” he asked, reaching again for Akaashi’s arm and tugging him until he dropped it and allowed Bokuto to pull it into his lap. It made his body twist uncomfortably but Akaashi wouldn’t turn to look at him. “Do you want me to… pretend that day in the hospital never happened?” _For you, I’ll do it, even if it hurts me right here and now._

Akaashi’s entire body stiffened, still as a statue of marble and just as fragile looking. His eyes glistened in the light shining in from the window. He didn’t breathe for so long Bokuto began to get worried, but finally, _finally,_ he turned to look at Bokuto, eyes desperate and hopeful and frightened. “No,” he gasped.

It was all Bokuto wanted. It didn’t matter about the future, everything could be planned once any sort of future was possible for him. For now, he was here. It was all that he cared about. He tugged gently on Akaashi’s arm, coaxing him closer until Bokuto could cup his cheek with his hand. He didn’t say anything, but kissed him, right on the mouth. Akaashi’s lips trembled under his own, and Bokuto felt a single tear slide to wet his thumb. He brushed it away, spreading his fingers across Akaashi’s cheek and into the soft, dark hair at his temples. Akaashi’s lips were just as delicate as Bokuto had thought. Warm, too. He tasted of the orange soda water Akaashi liked to drink on his off days. Bokuto smiled, unable to help himself, butterflies exploding into fireworks in his belly as he realized they were  _kissing_. Really, truly kissing.

All too soon, Akaashi pulled away. His breath was quick and he looked a little panicked. “But… but I can’t… go with you to school… I can’t be on a college team.” Bokuto could see the arguments fading. He watched as Akaashi battled with his sense of preservation and his longing, finally having been spoken, to be fulfilled.

“And I can’t take you on dates. I’m an invalid for the conceivable future. We’ll figure it all out, I promise.” Bokuto smiled, moved his hand around to the back of Akaashi’s head to squeeze his neck in a reassuring way. “You worry too much.”

“You never worry.”

“Perfect, we complete each other.”

Akaashi laughed then, a shocking thing to them both, and he ducked his head, giddy. “God you’re so stupid,” he said fondly. Then, glancing up: “You’re sure? I can’t promise you that I’ll be a good boyfriend. I’ve never done it before.”

Desire blossomed. “Can we keep kissing?” Bokuto felt the smile on his face broaden, felt it crinkle his eyes and wrinkle his nose in a way that it had always done, and he could never tell if he hated or loved that particular quirk of his face.

“Well…” Akaashi smiled too, slower, but just as wide as the realness of what he was saying lifted the weight from his shoulders and chucked it across the room to die in a corner somewhere. “Yeah. I suppose we can.”

Bokuto pulled him closer to feel the warmth of his body, placed both hands on Akaashi’s cheeks and kissed him again, thoroughly, until they were both panting and sighing and smiling against each other. Akaashi was careful to avoid his leg, though, keeping one arm supporting him just on the other side of Bokuto’s legs, close enough that his thumb touched Bokuto’s hip.

“Don’t go,” Bokuto said, holding him far enough away that he could scan his face. “It’s the weekend, stay with me.”

“Sure,” Akaashi said simply, without any hesitation.

“We’ll watch stupid movies and you can look at my x-rays.”

Akaashi pulled away, laughing hard. “Gross, why would I want to do that?”

“Because they’re  _really cool_.”

Akaashi shook his head, grinning, and Bokuto beamed, inflating with joy at this new smile. It was a smile he had never seen before. This wasn’t just  _happy_ Akaashi. This was some secret smile that he had kept hidden for two years. This must be his smile he saved only for his  _boyfriend_.


	13. Plans

They only saw each other on weekends for the next few weeks. Bokuto hated this because he had gone from seeing everyone every day to seeing only the nurse and his parents only sporadically. He would sit restless in his room when his parents went to work and the nurse came to tend to him. They spoke pleasantries, but she didn’t show any interest in anything he wanted to talk about and she wouldn’t reveal much about her own life so the conversation was one sided, despite her kind nature. After days of this Bokuto would sit sullen and brooding, frustrated that he couldn’t find anything interesting to talk about.

When Akaashi did come over, it was easier and harder than before, when they were only friends. Akaashi would come in his room, pause just a moment as if unsure (every time) and then lean down and give Bokuto the smallest of kisses. Bokuto would catch him by his shirt or his hair or his lip and kiss him for longer. Akaashi would sit at his desk and do homework or study while encouraging Bokuto to do the same; or Akaashi would squeeze in beside Bokuto, on the side of his body away from his injury, and they would play cards or simply sit close together and hold hands while watching television. It was harder because Bokuto wanted to treat him to dates, show him off, spoil him with kisses and snow filled walks, take him to his favorite restaurants and treat him to hot cider while they kissed in the park.

Bokuto would smile at him, kiss his knuckles, touch his hair, just because he could. He liked to see which of these things would make Akaashi smile, (answer: all of them to varying degrees) and do them over and over again. He discovered, to his delight, that Akaashi’s forearms were ticklish. He found this out when they were pressed close on Bokuto’s tiny bed, watching Bokuto’s favorite movie. Bokuto had chosen this one for the simple reason that he wanted to watch Akaashi see it for the first time. He was using the time to trace the blue veins on Akaashi’s pale wrist with his fingers and as they traveled upwards Akaashi jumped and tugged at his arm.

“Don’t do that.”

Bokuto grinned, latching onto the fact that Akaashi didn’t like it but he didn’t  _not_ like it. “Why not?”

Akaashi held his wrist with his other hand, protective. “Feels weird.”

Bokuto reached out, taking his wrist and pulling it to his mouth to brush his lips over the soft smelling skin. Akaashi’s face twitched and Bokuto beamed. “Tickle?”

Akaashi pulled his arm away, folded them over his chest. “It feels  _weird.”_

 

* * *

 

One day while Akaashi was studying Bokuto scribbled onto a piece of paper. Akaashi watched him do it, amused at the sight of Bokuto’s tongue poking between his teeth like it did when he was concentrating hard. Bokuto flipped the paper a quarter turn and scribbled some more.

“What are you doing?”

Bokuto didn’t look up, but leaned over his project. “Nothin’...”

Akaashi leaned over to see and Bokuto gasped, curling a protective arm over it. “No peeking!”

“Ugh, you’re incorrigible.”

“What’s that?”

“If you  _studied_ you’d know.”

Bokuto honest to god stuck his tongue out at him. Then went back to scribbling. Akaashi shook his head and did several math problems, ignoring the scratching, then the cutting, then the folding going on on Bokuto’s bed.

“Done!” Bokuto announced, holding up his prize. Akaashi looked at it, it was a strangely folded origami cone with words written on it that Akaashi couldn’t read because of Bokuto’s scribbled handwriting.

“What is it?”

Bokuto stuck his fingers in the paper corners. “Pick a color.”

Akaashi was skeptical. “Fuchsia,” he said randomly.

Bokuto nodded, and spelled as his fingers flipped the little paper open and closed. “F-U-S-I-A.”

“That’s not how you spell that.”

Bokuto grimaced. “How do you spell it?”

Akaashi told him and Bokuto flipped the paper. “Okay, now pick a number.”

Akaashi was getting a sinking feeling reminiscent of primary school where his friends had told him he’d end up alone and in a shack. He glanced at his latest math answer. “Six thousand five hundred and seventy four.”

Bokuto’s shoulders _and_ his hair dropped as he groaned. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Twelve.” Akaashi chuckled.

Bokuto counted, flipping, looking enraptured. Finally, he read, after flipping open a flap, “ _You don’t get a fortune, but you get a cookie_.”

Akaashi squinted at him, glanced around, expectant with only the smallest inkling of curiosity. Bokuto looked around too, as if stunned.

“I don’t have a cookie.”

And Akaashi snorted a laugh, surprised to see Bokuto’s utter horror at the realization. “Why’d you write it, then?”

“It sounded funnier in my head…”

“Your Mom has some in the kitchen.” Akaashi stood, leaning over and combing his fingers through Bokuto’s hair, about to kiss his forehead, when Bokuto pouted again. “What’s wrong? I said I’d go get some.”

“I’m sad now.” He was literally pouting, lip poking out and eyebrows drawn down over downcast eyes. Akaashi pressed his thumb between his eyes to smooth it out. It was sad mode all over again, Bokuto ignoring his touches.

“Why?” Akaashi asked, a bit sharper than intended.

“My hair…”

Akaashi blinked, pulled his hand away. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s dirty…”

“Oh,” Akaashi said simply, then smiled. “We can wash it.”

“But I can’t get my,“ Bokuto waved angrily at the pins, “things wet.”

“We’re going to wash your head not your foot.” Akaashi smiled, patted his head again like a puppy, and went to get the cookies before the endeavor that was transferring Bokuto to the wheelchair he needed to move around and wheeling him to the bathroom, onto a chair pulled in from the kitchen, and his head situated in the deep basin sink.

“This is uncomfortable,” Bokuto said, voice strained with the stretch on his vocal cords. He had a towel over his chest and Akashi standing over him, smiling down at him.

“Don’t lean so far back, then.”

Bokuto shifted, trying to get comfortable and not smack his foot into anything. They had managed it safely so far and Bokuto was nervous about it. He hadn’t hit it against anything… and he didn’t want to. The pain might be intense as the first time they were implanted, or it might just be pressure, but he did  _not_ want to find out. “So, where do you think you’d like to go on dates?” he asked to distract himself.

Akaashi was picking up bottles, reading them before replacing them until he found the one he wanted. “I don’t know, I don’t really date. You know that.”

“Yeah, but, listen, hear me out, where would you  _like_ to go?” he prodded. Akaashi rolled his eyes and Bokuto continued, “Wanna go to Disneyland?”

Akaashi laughed. “You look much too excited for that.”

“Hey, now, that’s mean. I  _love_ Disneyland. It’s so fun.”

“Because you’re a child.” Akaashi grinned, and started the water, waiting until it was warm to soak Bokuto’s hair. He had always liked Bokuto’s hair, ever since the first time they met. Looking at it now, it was clear that Bokuto actually  _did_ dye his hair with streaks of silver, but the black roots were growing out longer than usual. He wondered if Bokuto would keep it up or if he’d let it lapse now. Bokuto let his eyes slip closed, humming with pleasure at the feel of the water and Akaashi’s fingers on his scalp.

“Have you ever been?”

“....No.”

“We’ll go then.”

Akaashi laughed. “Alright, Bokuto. I’ll mark my calendar.”

“Where else do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, getting annoyed. He had only been on one actual date with a girl from school and it hadn’t gone well. Neither of them liked other people as a general rule, it seemed. They had been a strange and unsatisfactory enigma and had both agreed to go home early and pretend the ‘date’ had never happened. Bokuto was talking, telling him about various cafes and fun things he wanted to do, arcades, laser tag, festivals, and Akaashi nodded along, willing to just let him plan out whatever he wanted to because Akaashi really had no idea what to do. He was barely good at keeping up friendships, much less romantic relationships. He thought that he might get online to seek out inspiration once Bokuto was actually up and moving around. But right now to think that far ahead about  _their_ future was much too daunting.

Suddenly, Bokuto’s fingers edged up under the bottom of his shirt and brushed his naval. He jumped in surprise and sprayed the water in Bokuto’s face. “Ah, _shit_ ,” he said as Bokuto spluttered and laughed.

“What happened?” Bokuto laughed, sitting up and rubbing his towel across his face.

Akaashi felt his blush and tried to keep his voice level, “I wasn’t expecting you to touch me like that.” He rubbed a hand over his stomach where the memory of fingertips tingled.

Bokuto looked up at him, lowering the towel a bit so he could raise one eyebrow at him, drops of water falling onto his nose from his hair. “Like what?”

Akaashi didn’t know how to say what he wanted to express. Before he could decide Bokuto shook his head like a dog and splattered Akaashi with water. “Hey!” Akaashi stepped back, scowling. “What the hell?”

Bokuto beamed. “Oh  _nooooo_ did you get all wet?”

Akaashi glowered, snatched the towel and scrubbed it over Bokuto’s hair as the latter giggled like a mischievous child.

Back in Bokuto’s room, Akaashi helped him into bed and said, “Well, now that I’m  _soaked_ I have to walk home in the cold. Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiled, grabbing onto his wrist with careful fingers. “Why? Just stay.”

“I can’t. I have school tomorrow.”

“I live closer to school than you do.”

“I don’t have clothes.”

“I do. They fit you just fine.”

“They’re too  _big_.”

Bokuto smirked, as if he'd caught Akaashi in some sort of trap. “But not too small, which would be the real problem.”

Akaashi groaned, slumping a bit. It’s not that he didn’t want to stay. Bokuto knew it too, and tugged him closer. “Come on.” Bokuto smiled, warm and alluring. “It’ll be so long before we see each other again.”

Akaashi took a deep breath. “Not so long,” he said. “I’m coming next week to help you when you go to the hospital.”

Bokuto blinked, then beamed. “Really? Wait, that’s a school day.”

“Yes, but I wanted to be with you. Neither your mother or the nurse can actually lift you.”

“Calling me fat?”

Akaashi shoved a t-shirt in his face. “You’re almost a foot taller than  _both_ of them. They need help with you. Besides, I’m much better at school than you are so I can afford to take a day or two.”

Bokuto laughed, took Akaashi’s wrist and kissed his palm. “I’m glad you’ll be coming.”

Akaashi let him, then pulled his hand away. “So I have to go home. You have work to do, too.”

Bokuto’s face fell and he complained, “You’re not my tutor!”

“No, but he’s very strict and you haven’t done any of the work he asked you to do.”

Bokuto huffed. “So you’re going to leave me here  _and_ make me do homework?”

Akaashi laughed and leaned down to kiss his cheek. He had learned over the course of the years that you couldn't give Bokuto any easy options. You had to tell him what he needed to do and stick to it firmly. “Yes. I’ll see you in three days. We’ll need to leave the house at seven so you need to be awake.” He placed the cookie package on Bokuto's bedside table and they shared a few before he left. 

 

* * *

 

As Akaashi walked home in the late January night, he huddled his arms close to his body. His shirt was dry, but it was still snowing and snow always found its way into his collar. His skin  _still_ tingled where Bokuto had touched him. No one had ever touched him so intimately — and it wasn’t even so much of a strange place… just new, to him. He had no idea how experienced Bokuto was but he knew that Bokuto had dated many, many people. Or went  _on_ dates. Or did other things. Whenever Bokuto and Konoha talked about these things Akaashi would walk away or find something else to occupy himself. He realized only now why it bothered him so much when Bokuto talked about his other romantic interests. Apparently, he had liked Bokuto since the moment he met him.


	14. Extraction

In the evening, after a day of movies and cuddling and kisses, Akaashi turned to go, but Bokuto held a hand out, “Keiji, wait!” He blurted it out. He didn’t mean to. They had been having such a good time together all day that he didn’t want the intimacy to end.

Akaashi froze at his place by the door, then turned, eyes widened in surprise. Bokuto stilled, feeling a blush rise in his face. Akaashi’s eyes narrowed in a way that Bokuto couldn’t decipher.  _Shit shit shit shit_. Akaashi moved closer, coming back to stand over him, too close, not close enough. Akaashi looked down at him, frowning, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. His hand came up and Bokuto glanced at it before being drawn back to the fire in his eyes. Was Akaashi about to hit him?

No. His hand came to rest feather-like on Bokuto’s cheek, his thumb brushing Bokuto’s lips so lightly that all he felt was a tingling sensation in his lips and in the way his heart stuttered. “I’m sor—”

Akaashi made a sharp noise and Bokuto shut up like a trained puppy. “Say it again.”

Bokuto blinked, confused. He hated that he couldn’t read Akaashi, he was so good at controlling his face. He always had been.

“I’m sorr—”

“No,” Akaashi leaned down, so close that had Bokuto been able to breathe, they would have been breathing the same air. “Say my name again…” Akaashi’s voice was softer, awed, breath fanning over Bokuto’s cheeks, warm and minty.

Bokuto’s mouth was dry, he wanted to wet his lips but Akaashi’s thumb was still there, pressing gently into the side of his mouth. “...Keiji…” Bokuto whispered, stomach fluttering.

Akaashi’s eyes roved his face, moved closer. “I like that,” he said softly, tilting his head so that their lips were almost  _almost_ touching. Bokuto actually heard himself whimper. Fuck, that’s embarrassing. He didn’t care. Akaashi was kissing him. His thumb pulled at the corner of Bokuto’s bottom lip, tongue touching where his finger left. It was different than the other kisses. Akaashi’s soft lips parted his own with an ease of practice that made Bokuto jealous of imaginary people before making his head spin.  

Bokuto raised his hand, planning to slide a hand through Akaashi’s hair and make the kiss even better, but Akaashi pulled away, his face flushed pink, breathing heavier but trying to hide it. “Damn it,” Akaashi muttered. “We have to go.”

Bokuto spluttered, “What?!”

Akaashi straightened. “We have to go,” he repeated, adamant, a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder.

Bokuto opened his eyes, blinking, coming awake from the dream to see the real Akaashi standing over him, shaking him awake.

“Bokuto-san, we have to go, wake up.”

He moaned and yanked the blanket up over his head. “No… I was having such a nice dream. Lemme go back to it for, like, twenty minutes.”

Akaashi laughed, tugged at the blanket until Bokuto relinquished it. “No, today’s your surgery.”

Bokuto blinked, then gasped, “That’s right!” Today was the day he had been waiting for since waking up from the Fall. It would be an excruciating trip back to the hospital but it would be worth it. The surgery to remove the pins was today.

In the car, Bokuto tried his best not to groan aloud. He had been traversing the house enough that getting in and out of the wheelchair wasn’t hard anymore, but the way he had to scrunch and maneuver himself in the car put pressure on one of the pins in a way that made his entire leg ache all the way to his spine. It didn’t hurt necessarily, so he didn’t want to complain, but it wasn’t pleasant.

Akaashi helped pull him from the car, then push him through the maze-like hallways while his mother chatted about how happy she was at the new development in his recovery.

Bokuto was prepped for surgery and was waiting in one of the rooms, giddy with joy that the contraption would be gone in a few hours, practically bouncing in his excitement. His mother had gone to find a nurse and Akaashi stood beside him, reading one of the many posters about health and safety procedures. Bokuto reached up and tucked his fingers into Akaashi’s hand, causing him to look down at him in surprise.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

Akaashi’s smile was small, gentle reassurance. He squeezed Bokuto’s fingers. “Of course.”

“Good. I hope I dream about you.”

“Do you usually?” Akaashi chuckled.

“Recently, yeah.” Bokuto beamed, pulling his hand and kissing his knuckle. The nurse knocked, came in, and Bokuto dropped his hand.

“Ready?” she asked, rhetorical, as she began to ready him to move. His mother came in and stood beside the bed, smiling.

“See you when I wake up,” Bokuto said, happy, glancing between his mother and Akaashi before the nurse took him away.

 

* * *

 

Akaashi sat in one of the chairs in the recovery room, reading his study notes that he had prepared for today so as not to fall behind. Bokuto had come back from surgery only a few minutes ago and was sleeping in a drugged state in the bed beside him. Akaashi could have reached out and touched him, but he held his hands under control seeing as how Bokuto’s mother was right there and waiting patiently for the doctor.

When the doctor did come in, he told them that all had gone well. The bones had healed wonderfully, but Bokuto was not to put any weight on the foot for weeks yet, waiting for them to strengthen just a bit more.

“You’ve got to hold him to that,” the doctor said to Akaashi since he was there. “Any weight at all, even with the boot, would be disastrous and set him back to almost the beginning.”

Akaashi promised he would try to keep Bokuto in check. Now, instead of metal contraption and a cast up his shin, a thick black boot with velcro was wrapped around Bokuto’s leg and foot. It was a lot like a cast, except it was removable. It would follow Bokuto through the entirety of his recovery and rehab. It would be a support for his bones until they could support themselves. It was the next step, even if it did look a bit unwieldy.

The doctor told them that Bokuto could shower as soon as the wounds closed. He should rest the leg a few days, then begin a gentle exercise regimen to slowly rebuild the muscles that had atrophied in their stillness. He sent them home with papers and instructions, long lists of things Bokuto could not do and a timeline for when he could attempt to move the recovery forward. Bokuto’s mother was given phone numbers and staff recommendations for physical therapists to call and see which of them could come and teach Bokuto how to walk again without injuring himself.

Akaashi read through the papers, memorizing the things he could so that he could help as well. He glanced at Bokuto, drowsy but slowly coming awake, and hoped that he would be back to himself so that they could go out the way Bokuto wanted. Akaashi wanted to see the smile that could rival the sun with its brightness again. He wanted to see Bokuto play volleyball again. Wanted to see him run again, to simply have fun. Wanted to race him, even, because Akaashi had never won and he wanted to break that streak — but only after Bokuto was fully healed.

They went back to Bokuto’s house soon after, Bokuto himself barely able to stay awake on the car ride home and Akaashi practically had to carry him to bed. Once he was there, Bokuto slept hard, curling under the blankets and snoring softly. Akaashi kissed his cheek before he left the room, closing the door to let him sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, guys. Just bear with me for this one... something nice happens in the next one :)


	15. Cleansing

Akaashi had always been plagued by nightmares. Sometimes they were fantastical amalgamations of horror that his mind could pull from nowhere: blackness engulfing him, suffocation, colorful poisonous animals that didn’t exist biting him and drawing his insides out through their fangs. Sometimes they were memories… twisted and perverted into horrible creatures that devoured his efforts at sleep.

Often he dreamed of Bokuto’s fall, but it steadily got worse even as Bokuto himself healed. In his dreams, Bokuto would die — worse than simply falling. His body would shatter, skull crushed on the grass, blood turning to floating crystals in the air in the magic ways of dreams. Sometimes Akaashi was chained to the earth by thorns as Bokuto fell. In these dreams, if Akaashi stopped struggling, Bokuto would transform in a cloud of smoke and steam, emerging as a giant horned owl, his great wings dissipating the smoke as he flew away into the trees. Akaashi would watch him go and cry, allowing the thorns to stab into his skin, drag him beneath the earth, and let himself to suffocate just to end the pain of it all.

He dreamed of his father’s death. Of the train crash that took his father and a hundred others. He had seen the bodies on the news when he was six and always dreamed of himself among them, walking as a child, asking where his father was. The broken bodies would stare down at him, dead eyes flat white, until he would sit down and cry.

To combat the nightmares he exhausted his mind. At home, that meant studying until early into the morning. During volleyball trips, that meant not only studying when he could, but playing mindless phone games until his mind could think only of sleep. He never got enough sleep these days and copious amounts of caffeine were required to survive the days.

The same night that Bokuto had his pins out Akaashi was in the roll out mattress beside Bokuto’s bed playing one of these games, eyes burning from the light, when Bokuto shifted on the bed and reached out, fingers brushing Akaashi’s hair. He looked up to see Bokuto’s golden brown eyes shining in the light from Akaashi’s tablet, watching him and his game. Akaashi didn’t stop his game, he was right in the middle of a tricky level, and spent several minutes beating it before he set it down. “Bokuto-san, are you alright?” He had been asleep since returning home, drowsy from the medicine the hospital had given him for surgery.

“Mhm…” Bokuto’s voice was husky and deep with sleep. “Why are you still awake?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“..’cause you keep playing that game.” Bokuto yawned. “You should sleep more. Then you wouldn’t look so tired.”

Akaashi frowned, voice flat as he said, “Yes, thank you. That would be the solution, wouldn’t it?”

Bokuto stretched, then sat up, reaching for the black boot cast around his leg. “You always play that stuff during camp and tournaments. If you’d sleep instead you’d probably —”

Akaashi snapped, “Do not lecture me, Bokuto. I know how  _sleeping_ works.”

Bokuto blinked, then looked away, abashed, and leaned over his leg like he was stretching. He opened the cast and scowled at his freshly exposed skin. There was still a faint smell of malodor from his skin being trapped in casings for the last two months. “I’m glad you’re here, but I didn’t think you would be…”

Akaashi shrugged, closing the game on his tablet after saving his progress. “I told your parents I’d like to stay incase you needed something in the night.”

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Well… it is much closer, I can walk.” Akaashi smiled.

Bokuto beamed back at him, then declared suddenly, “I want to shower. The wounds are scabbed over, they said I could shower then, right?”

Akaashi glanced at the time on his tablet. “It’s… three in the morning.”

“Does the shower not work at three in the morning?” Bokuto looked over, grinning even wider. He closed the boot and waved Akaashi to move so he could swing his legs out of bed. Akaashi did move, Bokuto did sit up on the edge of the bed, then they stared at each other in the glow from the tablet screen, impasse reached.

“Well?” Bokuto asked.

“Well, what?”

“I can’t walk.”

Akaashi sighed. “Can’t you wait until morning?” He really was tired by now. This was about the time he normally fell asleep. School was already hell in the morning, this wouldn’t help at all.

Bokuto simply stared at him, big eyes and adorable face and pouty lips until Akaashi moaned and slumped to his feet to get the wheelchair. “ _Fine.”_

 

* * *

 

Almost twenty minutes later, after battling to get Bokuto into the bathroom, Bokuto sat on a tiny stool in the shower room with a towel around his hips and nothing else. No pins. No boot. No cast. Nothing. His body flexed its feathers, testing themselves for damage and, finding they weren’t plucked, spread out to feel the breeze.

Akaashi held the shower head in one hand, crouched in front of him, examining the scab wounds on Bokuto’s foot. “Looks clean to me,” he said, voice clipped and tired sounding.

Bokuto swallowed the rising gasp as Akaashi touched his foot with probing, gentle fingers. Akaashi was always gentle, but Bokuto still said, “I can’t move my ankle.”

Sharp eyes cut up at him and Bokuto shut up. Akaashi knew this, of course. He took the washcloth and moved it over Bokuto’s foot — firm enough to not be ticklish but soft enough to not cause movement nor pain. Bokuto marveled again at how clever Akaashi’s hands were. As water whispered over his skin, Bokuto felt the weeks of pain and hopelessness slipping away, pouring down the drain with the old skin that flaked away. Bokuto would have been embarrassed if it hadn’t felt so good. Akaashi had rolled up his pants and sleeves, but his hair was weighed down with damp and sticking to his forehead in a way that made Bokuto want to slide his fingers through it.

They had been in communal showers before — they had been in baths before together, too — it had never been like this though. Akaashi so very formal, and Bokuto doing his best not to squirm with desire. They had never been naked  _after kissing_ before. Bokuto was naked, and he thought it ungodly that Akaashi was not, as well. He imagined what he would do, leg or no leg, damn the consequences, when he realized Akaashi was looking at him again. He had said something.

“What?” Bokuto deadpanned, hoping the heat from the water would account for his blush.

“I said,” Akaashi said, sounding annoyed but with amusement in his eyes. “This must be nice for you. You’ve gone so long without a proper shower.”

_Oh, in more ways than one,_ Bokuto thought, but didn’t dare say it aloud. “Oh, yeah,” he managed. “You’ve really no idea, ‘kaashi.”

Akaashi’s lips twitched and he placed Bokuto’s foot back on the towel they had laid down to cushion against the sharp tile. “Oh?” His fingers trickled upwards, eyes locked on Bokuto’s, until he dropped them to his fingers. “You broke this one, too?” He slid the pads of his fingers over Bokuto’s freshly exposed shin bone. “It’s been in a cast for weeks so…” And now, his eyes, mischievous, bruises under them dark from lack of sleep, flicked upwards again. “Your skin must be so sensitive.”

Bokuto’s spine straightened considerably, along with other auspicious body parts. He gulped. This was a new side of Akaashi that Bokuto had only ever dreamed about. Literally. “I mean…” he muttered, unable to form a complete thought as Akaashi’s fingers tickled around to press into the back of his knee. His hands were so pretty, so perfect, long and slender and strong and currently curved around his calf, thumb pressed carefully beside the bone as he pushed his hand down and up, massaging in a way that made Bokuto wonder where he had fucking learned  _that._

His fingers moved to inspect Bokuto’s knee, rotating his knee cap and making Bokuto grit his teeth to not moan aloud. It probably shouldn’t have felt good, but it fucking did and Bokuto was enraptured. The steam hurt his eyes but he didn’t dare blink.

Because Akaashi was leaning forward, his lips kissing Bokuto’s knee, just above where his leg bent. Bokuto gripped the edges of the stool with both hands  _just in case he did something stupid._ Like ruin the moment. He felt Akaashi’s smile against his skin as he moved upwards, pushing the towel aside just enough, and  _holy shit holy shit_ , he kissed the puffy pink scar on his thigh where the stitches had been removed. Bokuto made a strangled noise in his throat that came whistling out through his nose and Akaashi looked up, smirk just like the one when he had successfully tricked the opponents on the other side of the net.

Then he stood, pushing the shower head into Bokuto’s slack hands and making him not drop it. “Finish up,” he said, coy and pleased with himself. “I’m going to get you some clothes.”

When he left Bokuto leaned down onto his good leg and let out a shaky breath. “God damn, god  _damn, god damn…”_ He took several breaths to steady himself and force his body to  _calm down not yet he’s a cocky bastard isn’t he well we’ll show him—_

He wasn’t sure why he suddenly referred to himself in the plural, but with the way his insides, his entire body, literally the whole fucking broken thing, shivered and moaned for that beautiful boy that just left he thought he might have just had an out of body experience with an angel.


	16. Gifts

Akaashi leaned hard against the door, letting out a shaky breath. He crouched, dropping his head into his hands and huffing out a sigh. What was wrong with him? What was that? Why’d he do that? Now Bokuto might think he was some sort of …

He moaned, knocking his fist against his forehead,  _get yourself together, Keiji._ He stood, going to Bokuto’s room to find clean clothes. He changed into his own dry clothes, then sat on Bokuto’s bed, hoping to give both himself and Bokuto ample time to calm down. The look on Bokuto’s face when he had kissed Bokuto’s leg had been priceless, seared into Akaashi’s mind forever now. He liked surprising Bokuto, making him speechless, because it was so difficult to do. Really, he thought as he sat there, Bokuto’s sheets needed changing, but he didn’t know where the extra ones were so he couldn’t do it.

Checking the time, he saw that it was almost four in the morning, and lamented the lost hour of sleep. Then he went back to the bathroom, knocking before going in. “Are you clean?”

Bokuto’s hair was soaking wet, but otherwise he looked much the same, if a bit pink. He wondered if it was the hot water or something else. “Here, do you need help getting your clothes on?”

Bokuto’s mouth quirked up. “I’d rather you help me get my clothes off.”

“You’ve only got a towel on, Bokuto-san.”

“Even easier.”

Akaashi scowled at him until Bokuto sighed, dramatically, and pulled his shirt on. “No, I don’t.”

So Akaashi left and got the wheelchair from the closet and, when Bokuto was dressed, helped him get the boot back on and hauled him into the chair so they could get to bed. It still took longer than Akaashi would have wanted, but by four thirty he collapsed on the little mat in the floor and let himself drop into sleep, his mind too tired to even consider dreaming.

 

* * *

 

In class the next day, Akaashi felt like he was going to fall asleep during his test. He scribbled out long winded answers and hoped that they not only were correct, but that they made sense as well. Afterwards, as he was walking home, Bokuto sent him a text,  _come over?_

_i can’t. i have homework_

_you can do it here!_

_i’ve got to go home._ Really, he needed to sleep. He thought he might take medicine and force his mind to fogginess so he could sleep at least six hours. That would be nice.

His phone dinged:  _but i got you a present :D_

Akaashi stopped on the sidewalk, frowning at the phone.  _Bokuto… I REALLY have to do homework. I’ll only come over if you let me do my work_.

_cross my heart_

He sighed, then turned around, and began the walk to Bokuto’s house.

When he got there, the nurse was in the kitchen and Bokuto was in the living room hunched over a small table folding paper. Akaashi set his bag down. “What are you doing?”

“Making cranes,” Bokuto answered, his tongue poking out between his teeth. He finished, and held up his creation to be praised.

Akaashi took it, and looked it over. “Very good,” he said simply before handing it back. He noticed the nest of them on the couch beside him, there were at least twenty of them and he wondered how long he had been at it.

“Do you want your gift now?” Bokuto was smiling, excited.

“I suppose so. That’s why you asked me to come.”

Bokuto pointed to a small box on the floor and Akaashi picked it up, examining the packaging. Bokuto had actually wrapped it in Hello Kitty paper. He raised an eyebrow at it and Bokuto explained, “That’s all we had. I think it was for my niece’s birthday or something. Open it, open it.”

Akaashi plucked the tape off and slid the box out, opening it and pulling out a long black sleeve. He frowned at it, “What — oh.” He understood, and laughed. “You got me leggings?”

“No.” Bokuto beamed. “Knee pads! Like mine. You’ve gotta make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Akaashi couldn’t help but smile, looking at them. He had wondered for weeks when he first met Bokuto whether he wore leggings or knee pads. “Thank you, Bokuto-san…” he said, carefully folding them back into the box. “Really. It’s very thoughtful of you.” He looked up at him to see the biggest smile on Bokuto’s face, the happiest he’d seen him since his fall. “How’d you get them?”

“You can get anything online these days.”

Akaashi glanced in the kitchen, but the nurse was enraptured in a small television, watching some soap or something, so he leaned over and kissed Bokuto, touching his cheek. “Thank you,” he said again. “I love them.”

Bokuto’s smile warmed his heart, and would stay with him through the evening, even as he conjugated verbs and solved ever more complicated math problems. Beside him, Bokuto continued to make his birds, practicing until he could not only do it from memory, but also make them pretty. Then Akaashi made him do homework so that the tutor wouldn’t yell at him.

“Will you stay tonight?” Bokuto asked, sounding nervous.

Akaashi sighed. “I don’t know…”

“Please?”

Akaashi didn’t look at him, didn’t have to to know that he would have that  _look_ on his face. The one that Akaashi hated saying no to. “Fine,” he said after a long moment. “But only if you finish your work.”

 

* * *

 

In the evening as Akaashi came back from the bathroom Bokuto said, “Sleep with me tonight, Akaashi,” as if it was that simple.

Akaashi stared at him, eyes wide, ice and fire battling for dominance in his chest. Fear and longing mixing like koi fish in a pond. He must have had terror on his face though, because Bokuto laughed.

“No, no. Sleep in my bed. Actual sleeping. Not, y’know,” he actually winked, smirking, “the more fun thing.”

“You’re so crude.”

Bokuto smiled, big and warm and welcoming as he held out his arms wide. “Come on, you know you want to.”

He didn’t. But he did crawl into bed beside Bokuto, not sitting beside him like he had been, but laying lengthwise along the side of the bed, careful not to be too close. Bokuto put a stop to that by wiggling his arm under Akaashi’s neck, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders, and tugging him close so their chests were touching. Bokuto buried his face in Akaashi’s hair and snuggled in like a baby animal. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly, his breath tickling Akaashi’s ear.

Akaashi sat stiff and worried, nervous that he would do something wrong. He didn’t necessarily  _like_ people touching him. He could usually tolerate it but now,  _now,_ Bokuto’s warmth permeated through his skin like sunbeams. His broad body cocooned Akaashi like a caterpillar, keeping him safe from the outside world. Now, Bokuto’s arms were tight around him, holding him for so long … Akaashi eventually relaxed and spread his palms on Bokuto’s chest, enjoying the feel of the strength hidden under his softness.

Akaashi’s heart thrummed against his rib cage, but not unpleasantly. He rather liked it and the way it sang to him just how much he liked being here, safe, in the cage of Bokuto’s arms, pressed so close he could feel Bokuto’s own heart beating in tandem.

_Really_ , Akaashi thought,  _there’s nowhere else I could be right now_.

As the minutes wore on and Bokuto’s body grew heavy as he fell asleep, Akaashi began to not like it as much. What was once warm was now overly hot, he felt almost claustrophobic as Bokuto snuggled even closer. Akaashi pressed his hands against Bokuto’s chest and pushed him away even as Bokuto grumbled against it. He did lay on his back, spread out like a bird as he fell immediately back asleep.

Akaashi glowered at him and his ability to drop so quickly into slumber. “Ass,” he whispered. He was stuck now, though, and he sighed, wondering what he was going to do until he fell asleep. Maybe he could simply make himself stay awake with sheer force of will so that his dreams wouldn’t wake him and alert Bokuto to his mental deficiencies. No one knew of his nightmares, not even his mother, and he wanted to keep it that way. Or maybe if he did fall asleep he wouldn't dream because he was so tired. He didn't know, and the uncertainty of it scared him.

To keep his mind occupied, he traced his fingertips over Bokuto’s shoulder and chest, admiring the feel of muscle there. The light from the window made his skin pale and ethereal, and Akaashi sat up on his elbow to admire him. He drew tiny patterns over Bokuto’s shirt until Bokuto shifted and rubbed his hand over his chest, his breath deepening as he mumbled in his sleep. The action moved his shirt upwards to reveal the curve of his hip bones and the slope of his belly. The hair that trailed down to his shorts was dark and soft looking, so Akaashi moved his hand to spread it over Bokuto’s belly to feel it. For a moment, he thought about moving lower, just to see what it would be like. He’d never touched another man before and was curious as to what it would be like.

Instead, his moved his hand upwards, following the line of Bokuto’s ribs, moving his shirt aside. Bokuto was a heavy sleeper and Akaashi had seen him sleep through shouting matches between Haruki and Saru so he didn’t think Bokuto would wake up. He didn’t know what he’d do if he did. With that in mind, Akaashi leaned down and let his nose follow the path of his fingers, savoring the clean scent of soap and uniquely sharp scent of Bokuto’s skin. He liked it, and let his lips trace the outline of ribs, kissing him there and silently apologizing again for damaging them.

He looked up to make sure Bokuto was still asleep, and moved to lean over him and kiss his cheek. Since being confined for two months and still having the appetite of a horse, Bokuto had gained some weight. Not enough to be really noticeable until instances like this where Akaashi could kiss the softening of his cheekbone, the curve of his jaw. He knew it would go away once Bokuto was able to exercise again, but he actually thought it was adorable.

Bokuto’s arm came up to press against Akaashi’s side, holding him close.

Akaashi chuckled, pushing down his nerves. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

Bokuto’s face didn’t move except for a small twitch to his lips and a tightening of his arm so that Akaashi was tucked into the space. “You’re making me dream things.”

“Oh?” He hoped Bokuto couldn’t feel the way his heart was hammering inside his rib cage.

“Yeah, here, c’mere.” Bokuto pulled and, against Akaashi’s protests, manhandled him into his lap. Akaashi straddled Bokuto’s hips, hands on his chest, freaking out. His mouth went dry and he had to swallow the noises his mouth wanted to make at the sensation of actually sitting on Bokuto’s hips.

His hands roved upward, spreading across Akaashi’s back and side, and he squirmed. Bokuto frowned at him, eyes heavy lidded and almost luminescent in the light coming in from the window, “You don’t like me touching you…” he said, voice a low murmur of worry.

Akaashi shook his head, “It’s not … that.” His words tumbled from his lips, catching as Bokuto’s fingers found a sensitive spot on his spine. “It’s just uncomfortable.”

Bokuto’s hands stilled, but his eyes didn’t leave Akaashi’s face. “Should I not —”

“No it’s,” Akaashi sighed, “I’m just not used to it.” He wasn’t, no one had ever touched him outside of hand shakes and team hugs and the like, and certainly never like this. Bokuto’s hands were large and thick, the strength of his fingers felt good against Akaashi’s ribs. He didn’t exactly hate it, but he didn’t want Bokuto to pull his hands away until he could categorize how they made him feel.

“You can touch me too, if you want,” Bokuto whispered. His thumb found the hem of Akaashi’s shirt, but when Akaashi stiffened considerably, he moved both hands away, held them up as if in surrender, and lay them on the pillow beside his head. His eyes smouldered and Akaashi felt the residual effects of his fingers warm his skin and he wanted Bokuto’s hands back on him.

He bit his lip, suddenly nervous, and let his hand drop to Bokuto’s stomach again, fingers spread wide so they touched each side of his ribs. Now that Bokuto was watching him, it was different. It was heated.

“Oh!” Bokuto suddenly sat up. “Wait.” Their faces were inches apart, Akaashi was stunned to stillness at the suddenness of it. Bokuto leaned close, and slid the tip of his tongue over Akaashi’s lips with a shit eating grin when Akaashi made a pitiful noise in his chest. Then he leaned back and peeled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. “There,” he declared, laying back and resuming his position with a bigger smile.

Akaashi held his breath, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. His fingers traced the shape of Bokuto’s collarbone, his thumb following the vein in his throat. It was throbbing, beating fast, and Akaashi was pleased with the knowledge that Bokuto was just as flustered as he was. His palm curved over Bokuto’s shoulder, then the tender skin under his arm, making Bokuto’s lips twitch and his body shift as he tried not to squirm. Akaashi touched his fingernail to Bokuto’s elbow and grazed it towards his wrist, smirking. Bokuto laughed and jerked away, snatching Akaashi’s wrist in his hand.

“What?” Akaashi smiled, knowing exactly what.

“ _Feels weird_ ,” Bokuto mocked, pleased. Akaashi tugged his hand away and then leaned forward, laying his cheek on Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto’s hand came up to rest in his hair, fingers twisting and petting his scalp. His nipples were small and dark, and Akaashi’s mouth watered at the thought that he could ...— he did, moving his head and dragging the flat of his tongue over one of them. Bokuto sucked in a breath and his hand tightened into a fist, holding Akaashi still. So he did it again, then latched on with his teeth, tugging until Bokuto’s breath hissed out and his spine arched.

“ _Shit.”_ Bokuto tugged on Akaashi’s hair until he raised his head, then pulled him up for a kiss. He wasted no time, and held Akaashi firmly while he parted his lips until Akaashi let out a whimper. Bokuto was a good kisser, able to make Akaashi feel inadequate in nearly every way. But it didn’t matter, because what Akaashi lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. His arms came around Bokuto’s bare shoulders, feeling as much skin as he possibly could, digging his nails in, until Bokuto shifted and moaned into his mouth.

“Ah, fuck, ‘kaashi, shit, your mouth, you’re so beautiful,” Bokuto said, breathless, hands cupping Akaashi’s cheeks and brushing their mouths together as they both tried to catch their breath. “Don’t stop, please,” his hips canted upwards and Akaashi, out of instinct, pushed back with his own, making them both shiver.

“ _hnng_ , Bo, stop,” Akaashi panted, trying to pull away.

Bokuto panicked, removing his hands like Akaashi was electric. “Sorry, I’m sorry, what’s wrong?” He asked, worried, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“No, no, nothing.” Akaashi sat back, dropping his head and trying to draw in several deep breaths. “Can’t breathe…”

Bokuto gingerly placed his hands on Akaashi’s hips, a crease of worry drawing his eyebrows down. “Yeah? Are you alright?”

“Mhmm-hmm…”

His thumbs rubbed soothing circles into his sides. When his heart had finally calmed to a steady rhythm, Akaashi looked down at him. “We gotta stop…”

Bokuto pouted. “What? Why?”

“I’ve got a test tomorrow. I’ve gotta go to sleep…”

“...Are you sure?”

Akaashi laughed and leaned until he could collapse beside him, leaving one leg over Bokuto’s to keep him appeased. “Yes, I’m sure. Besides, you’re barely into your rehab, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bokuto smirked, teeth white in the dark. “You won’t hurt me.”

“All the same,” Akaashi patted his chest, “Sleep now.” He began to pull away, but Bokuto hugged him tight.

“Don’t go.”

Akaashi wanted to complain, wanted to say  _no you’re too hot_ but thought that Bokuto’s ego didn’t need that type of encouragement. But Bokuto was nuzzling into his hair, breathing deeply, relaxing as he held Akaashi against his chest. Akaashi decided to just lay there, wait until Bokuto was sound asleep, then move him away so he didn’t suffocate.

Instead, before he knew it, Bokuto was kissing him again, and morning light peeked in through the window. Akaashi blinked, pulled away. “What time is it?”

Bokuto kissed him again. “I dunno, like seven? Seven thirty? I didn’t look.”

Akaashi frowned, putting a hand against Bokuto’s cheek to hold him still while he processed. He’d slept through the night. He’d gotten at least eight hours sleep. No dreams. No nightmares. Nothing. He looked at Bokuto, amazed.

“What?” Bokuto asked, blinking owlishly.

Akaashi smiled, brushed his thumb over his cheek, and kissed him. “I slept well, that’s all.”


	17. Exertion

As the weeks went on Akaashi found himself staying with Bokuto more and more. His mother didn’t care, she probably barely noticed, and Akaashi liked it better anyway. Sometimes Akaashi would bring him snacks from his favorite convenience stores, and they would share them in the kitchen, talking to the nurse and physical therapist that now came every other day.

They spent their evenings studying together, Akaashi helping Bokuto learn to recall things consistently and not simply memorize them for a test, but actually learning them. And at night, they would curl up on Bokuto’s small bed together, whispering through the darkness, kissing when talking wasn’t enough, and leaving the television on to hide the sounds they made. He still didn't sleep as much as he should have, staying up too late with Bokuto's nose pressed into the back of his neck as he slept, Akaashi playing on his phone until he fell asleep so that his dreams didn't bother him.

Akaashi found that he liked kissing more than almost anything else. He also liked Bokuto’s hands in his hair, pressed into the space under his shoulder blades, and tucked into the crease of his hips as Akaashi sat on his lap. As the nights went on he became more comfortable letting Bokuto touch him, liked the feeling of warmth that spread from his fingers and he liked the feel of their bare skin touching when Akaashi worked up the nerve to strip their shirts off. Anything else would be too much, too dangerous, and Akaashi refused to let Bokuto get more injured because of him.

He watched the days go by and Bokuto made more and more of the origami cranes. One day Akaashi came back from practice and saw strings of them hanging from the ceiling. “What’s all this?”

Bokuto was actually doing his school work, but he looked up to smile at them. “Cranes.”

“I know that. I mean, why are they up there? Why are there so many?” He put his bag down and sat in his usual spot beside Bokuto in his bed.

“Gotta make a thousand to get my wish,” Bokuto said, smiling. He leaned over to give Akaashi a welcoming kiss.

Akaashi sat back, looking up at all the cranes as they fluttered in the breeze from the air conditioning. Bokuto had used colorful paper, receipts, ticket stubs, pretty much anything he could get his hands on, so they were of various sizes and colors, some more elegant and beautiful than other more chunky ones, but they all had hope in their creases, floating from their wings. “What will you wish for?”

Bokuto shrugged. “Well… it’s whatever you desire the most. I’m not sure what that is right now.” He began to pack away his work and Akaashi frowned.

“What do you mean? Surely you’d wish for your accident to not have happened.”

Bokuto sighed, more melancholy than he usually would be, which worried Akaashi. “I don't know. You’d think so. But…” he glanced over, smiling fondly, “then we might never have kissed. I don’t think I’d be very happy, then.”

Akaashi didn’t know how to take that. He held his hands together, fiddling with his fingers. He knew the legend wasn’t true — wishes weren’t just granted — it was impossible. But the thought that Bokuto would, again, give up his dreams for  _him_ … he didn’t know how to feel about that. It was both flattering and horrifying.

Akaashi must have looked frustrated, because Bokuto put his arm around him and tugged him closer, kissing his cheek, “Don’t worry too much, it’s going to take me a long time to make them, anyway. Maybe I’ll be better by the time I’m done.”

 

* * *

 

In the middle of February, a week into Bokuto’s rehab, Akaashi came over to find him sitting on the couch with an ice pack on his leg and an uncomfortable look on his face. A tall blonde man was with him, the physical therapist that went by the name Kaito.

Akaashi blanched. “What happened?!”

Bokuto tried to smile, but his voice was tense with pain, “I hurt my ankle.”

“What? How?”

Kaito didn’t look happy either. He was prodding Bokuto’s foot with his fingers and looking concerned. “He tried to do too much. We’re only working on range of motion and building muscle now, but he actually tried to stand up before I could stop him.”

Bokuto smiled, trying to excuse himself, wincing as Kaito pressed a particularly painful spot. “I just want to get better faster.”

Akaashi glowered at him. “You idiot.”

Bokuto slumped deeper into the couch. “I’m sorry! I’m just excited to —”

Akaashi held up a hand to cut him off. He was almost too furious for words. “Don’t —” He looked at Kaito. “Will he be alright?”

“Give it a week or two, and yes, I believe so. I don’t feel any breakage so I don’t think there’s any need for corrective surgery. Barely.”

Akaashi’s breath huffed out and he had to take a moment to compose himself. He found at the end of the moment that it hadn't worked and he was still furious. Bokuto was smiling like everything was alright. He either didn’t comprehend or he didn’t care that he had almost broken his foot again. After so many breaks, bones would never heal right; muscles would not stitch themselves together quite the same. If he did it again, he might never be able to run again.

“See? It’s all fine!” Bokuto smiled, then winced again and gripped his thigh.

“I’m going home,” Akaashi said tersely, taking out the bento that Bokuto liked for him to bring. It was his favorite today, too. He set both of them on the table and went to the door, ignoring Bokuto’s shocked cry.

“What?! Why? No, ‘kaashi, come back! What the hell?”

Akaashi didn't look at him as he pulled his shoes on. “I’ve got homework.”

“You usually do it here…”

Kaito was politely ignoring them, but Akaashi still didn’t feel like he could yell at Bokuto the way he wanted with him there. He wanted to shout and scream and vent his frustration at Bokuto’s stupidity but yelling was not his style and he tried not to do it.

“Not tonight,” Akaashi muttered. “Be careful, Bokuto-san, don’t injure yourself further.” And he left, closing the door on Bokuto’s sad face before he could change his mind. He wouldn’t stick around if Bokuto was going to be reckless. He couldn’t watch that, especially if the injury would be more catastrophic in its implications.

By the time he got home Bokuto had texted him many variations of  _i’m sorry_  and  _i won’t do it again_  and  _please come back_. But Akaashi ignored them, or else he would go back, he would let Bokuto apologize, he would dismiss his actions and maybe, just maybe, Bokuto would jump headlong into rehab again and injure himself because he wanted to move about more quickly. Maybe,  _maybe,_  Akaashi could teach him through negative reinforcement to not do these things. If that didn’t work he’d have to think of something else. Possibly he could just speak to him about it… but Bokuto was hard headed and stubborn in the easiest of decisions. At worst, he was ornery and impossible and it pissed Akaashi off to no end.

“Keiji?”

His mother called him from her bedroom and he went back, knocking before entering. “I’m home.”

She smiled at him, sitting at her computer. She looked tired, like she always did, like he knew he always did, but she seemed more chipper than the last time he’d seen her. “Dear, the dinner you left me was delicious. Thank you. I’ve washed the dishes.”

He smiled, pleased. “You’re welcome, mother. I’m glad you liked it.”

They looked at each other for an uncomfortable moment before he said, “I have some homework to do.”

She nodded. “Oh, okay. How are your studies going?”

“Very well… I’m top of my class.”

Her smile was broad, but her eyes were sad. He looked like his father, she always said, so it was hard for her to look at him or hold a long conversation. He’d grown used to it by now. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, Keiji. You’re such a good son. How’s your friend doing?”

Akaashi hesitated, but she didn’t know Bokuto. She didn’t really know anything about the situation except that Akaashi himself was gone more often than not, now. “He’s fine, thanks for asking.”

“Tell him I’m thinking of him. I’m sure he’s glad to have you with him.”

“I will.” He paused, unsure, then said, “I need to study now.”

She only nodded and turned away, going back to whatever she was doing on her laptop. He closed her door and went across the house to his room, small and bare, and he sat at his desk. He did have homework, but he didn’t want to do it right now. He laid his head on his desk and sighed, thinking he might just rest his eyes for a few minutes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I've had to take a short break in writing because of various circumstances and I'm also a bit creatively burned out writing 20k in like... two weeks. I'm sorry for the delay. I need a few days to recover and I'll be sure to take that time to plan out better where this story is going and all that behind the scenes stuff writers do.  
> Please bare with me while I get back into the groove of things. Chapters might not go up every day like they have been, and I'm sorry for that, but they will still be coming steadily, I hope. I promise I will not give up on this project, so don't worry about that.  
> Thank you all for reading, it means the world to me.


	18. Reconciliation

Days went by and Bokuto barely heard from Akaashi. The weekend came and went and he never came over, barely even texted. Bokuto’s leg throbbed from the injury he sustained the first day of rehab, but also from the exercises he was doing now to build muscle and range of motion. It was like a workout on a small scale; he could barely do it without pain and sweat...he hated it.

He would sit in bed after the nurse and the therapist and his parents were gone and he would gaze out the window, hoping that Akaashi would come waltzing up the street. He never did, Akaashi wasn’t spontaneous like that, in visits or in his modes of walking. Bokuto glanced at the small package he had ordered for Akaashi and wondered when he would get to give it to him. He hoped it didn’t go bad before he could.

Sighing, he checked his phone again but Akaashi hadn’t answered his last text. It had been an owl joke:  _how do owls like to take tests?_ but he had forgotten the answer already since it had been hours ago. He was frustrated and pissed off that Akaashi would ignore him like this, when he was the only thing left for Bokuto of the outside world, since Haruki and Saru and Yukie had gone to college, Konoha had vanished to America, and most of his other friends wouldn’t talk to him without feeling so sorry for him that they couldn’t keep up a legitimate conversation.

He leaned back onto the headboard, pulling his left knee up slowly, doing the tiny motions that he’d been instructed to do twice daily. He felt like an idiot as he did so because really he shouldn’t have been so stupid to try to stand so soon. He had done it in a moment of excitement, but when he felt the crunch of bones not quite ready to bear weight, and crumpled under him like paper he regretted it immediately. He spent too long trying to rotate his ankle, like a dancers warm up, but failed because it hurt too much, so he collapsed onto his pillows and tried not to cry.

Akaashi was mad at him. His friends were all gone to college. His dreams were crushed. His leg was broken. He was getting  _fat_. He pressed his hands to his eyes, breathing hard. Then, before he could think better of it, he punched his good leg in the top of the thigh, hard. So hard he gasped in pain. When the pain had subsided to a dull throb he did it again, and again, until a bright red bruise began to burst underneath the skin. “Fuck,” he whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He said it to his birds, but they didn’t reply, only rustled their paper feathers above him.

 

* * *

 

The next day Akaashi finally texted him back.  _i have practice this afternoon but i will come over afterwards if you want_

To which Bokuto replied:  _please_

Bokuto made himself shower and change clothes, making sure the darkening purple bruise was covered and doing his best to show Kaito that he wasn’t going to overdo anything and follow his rehab correctly and consistently. His knee was able to bend almost completely now, muscles aching with exertion but in the sweet way of exercise and not the terrible pain of brokenness.

By the time Akaashi walked in the door Kaito and the nurse were gone, Bokuto was back in his bedroom, nervous and sweaty waiting for him to arrive. “Akaashi,” he said immediately, reaching for him, “I’m sorry, please forgive me.” He took Akaashi’s hand and pressed his knuckles to his lips, scared that Akaashi might have come over just to tell him off again.

Akaashi sighed, turned his hand to cup Bokuto’s cheek in his palm. “You’re better, now?”

“Yeah… all healed.” Bokuto let himself smile, looking up at him. Then Akaashi gripped his cheeks in a firm and painful grip.

“Don’t do it again.”

“ _owowowow_ ,” Bokuto whimpered, then Akaashi let go and Bokuto rubbed his cheeks. “I promise.”

“Good,” Akaashi sat beside him, leaned over and kissed him. “I was very worried.”

Bokuto scanned his face, frowning. Akaashi looked like he hadn’t slept in days. The dark circles under his eyes were worrying, his eyes sunken and red, and he looked ashen and pale. Bokuto reached up and touched one with his fingertips and Akaashi pulled away, looking annoyed.

“Don’t,” Akaashi said, snappish and brusque.

Bokuto pulled away, sheepish. “Sorry…” He forced a smile and said, “Here, I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up.” He reached behind him to the small box in red wrapping paper and handed it to him.

Akaashi glanced at him, then the package, looking confused. “Why do you keep giving me things?”

“... Because I want to… I like giving you gifts.”

Akaashi didn’t exactly sigh, but he didn’t look very happy. Something was wrong with him, Bokuto didn’t know what, and he was frustrated with that. Akaashi never talked to him… he’d have to figure out how to get him to open up.

But first: “Are you going to just look at it or open it?”

Akaashi glanced up at him, then began to unwrap the little box, looking worried, until he saw what was inside. Tiny, disc shaped intricately decorated chocolates. Akaashi looked confused and bewildered, and stared at them before looking at Bokuto. “What is it?”

Bokuto laughed. “Chocolate for Valentines day. I thought it was appropriate...I guess. I mean not really, but I wanted to get you some.” He took the wrapping paper that Akaashi had carefully pulled off and began folding it into a bird.

“That was last week, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you came over but you left after you yelled at me.”

Akaashi’s face didn’t change, he wasn’t sorry for yelling at Bokuto, it was obvious, but he avoided Bokuto’s eye. “You know,” he said instead, “it’s supposed to be girls giving chocolates.”

“Gender roles, psh,” Bokuto mocked, laughing. He admired his finished bird for a moment then set it aside on the bedside table.

Akaashi smiled with the corners of his eyes. “Ah… I remember last year you and Saru had a contest to see who got the most chocolates at school.”

Bokuto had to think to remember. The chocolate wasn’t what was memorable about that day for him. “Yeah? I mostly remember us sharing them afterwards.”

“Why?”

“Oh, we were dating.”

Akaashi choked on a piece of chocolate. “Pardon?”

“Well, not dating... “ Bokuto felt his face flush as memories flicked across his mind and he couldn’t look Akaashi directly in the eye. “We were sleeping together.”

“ _No._ ” Akaashi was aghast.

“Yes! We didn’t tell anyone, obviously. It was mostly because we were both… uh… were just there, y’know?”

“No, I don’t.”

Bokuto rubbed his chest, laughing uncomfortably. Really, he didn’t want to talk to Akaashi about Saru. Saru was entertaining, he was handsome, he was filthy in a way that made Bokuto blush, but in the best way possible. “Don’t worry,” he waved a hand, “It was only for a few months, then he started dating that girl from a different school? The really pretty one?”

Akaashi shook his head, uncomprehending.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Bokuto assured him. “It was over a year ago.”

Akaashi looked away, eyes flicking around the room but not seeing, watching the reel of his memory in his head, trying to find evidence. He couldn’t, and he frowned. “I had no idea.”

“That was sort of the point. We didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Did you sleep with anyone else on the team?” Akaashi sounded worried.

“No, no.” Bokuto thought a moment, considered telling him about Kuroo, but decided against it. “Not yet anyway.” He smiled and winked, pleased to see Akaashi’s cheeks go pink.

Akaashi huffed, then held out the box to him. “Here, try one. They’re good.”

“They better be!” Bokuto picked a piece of white chocolate decorated with dark lines of chocolate. “I spent a lot of money on them.” He popped it in his mouth and, indeed, it was high quality and delicious, melting in his mouth and making him grin. “Oh, I did good.”

That made Akaashi chuckle. “Yes, you did.” He looked down, and once again Bokuto saw the flash of exhaustion on his face and wanted to make it go away, wanted to make him smile and laugh.

He reached out and touched Akaashi’s arm. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” Akaashi said, too quickly.

“I…” Bokuto hesitated, unsure if his next words would make Akaashi angry. “I don’t believe you.”

Akaashi groaned softly, dropping his head into his hand, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you then, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto wished Akaashi would be less formal. He pulled at Akaashi’s arm, but Akaashi moved away from his hand, handing him the box of chocolate. “Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I just need sleep… and my end of year tests are coming up so I’m studying a lot.”

Bokuto picked through the chocolates for the other white ones, his favorite. “Are you going to stay over tonight?” Akaashi shrugged so Bokuto continued, “Please do. Maybe I can help you study.”

Akaashi let out a laugh, harsh and one tone. “You barely study yourself.”

Bokuto scowled. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“I think I’m going to go shower,” he said, standing abruptly. 

“I might eat all your chocolate.”

“Fine,” he muttered, then left the room.

Bokuto ate a few more pieces then closed the package and set it aside. He wanted to chase after him, corner him and demand that he talk to him about what was bothering him. Bokuto thought he might get punched, but he didn’t care. Anything to get that awful exhausted look off Akaashi’s face. He wanted to kiss the bruises away from his eyes and put the smile lines back.

Akaashi didn’t study, didn’t eat dinner either, and came back from his shower looking even more exhausted so that Bokuto coerced him into coming straight to bed and watching funny sitcoms until he fell asleep. It didn’t take long, as Bokuto knew it would, and Akaashi was sleeping soundly by the time Bokuto himself fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Something woke him in the darkest hours of the morning, but he didn’t know quite what. Some movement or sound, and Bokuto pulled his mind from the drowsiness of sleep to search it out.

The room was dark and quiet, but Bokuto felt the bed shaking every now and then. He looked over to see Akaashi hunched as far away as he possibly could be, his shoulders shivering. Bokuto thought he was cold, so he reached out and touched his shoulder, only to pull away when Akaashi’s shoulders jerked under his hand and he let out a pitiful sound. Bokuto sat up on one arm, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his free hand, “What’s —” He heard Akaashi make another sound, muffled by the sheets, as he curled in tighter on himself.

“Hey, hey, ‘kaashi, what’s wrong?” He leaned over, touching his arm, not pulling away this time when Akaashi flinched. Akaashi shook his head adamantly, not looking at him.

Bokuto pulled at his arm, at first just trying to get him to open up, but when Akaashi’s chest began to heave and he tried to suck in deep breaths Bokuto pulled more firmly until his body unfolded and he turned, revealing the streaks of tears on his face.

“What, Bokuto?” he said, angrily, voice thick.

Bokuto blinked, shocked, scared, worried. “What — what’s wrong?” He didn’t know what else to say. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Akaashi snapped, rubbing the back of his hand across his face. “Go back to sleep.” He sat up, trying to get off the bed to run off to the bathroom or the kitchen.

Bokuto grabbed his arm, holding him there. “Don’t go.”

Akaashi glowered at him, clearly uncomfortable to be seen so vulnerable. “Please let me go.”

“No,” Bokuto said firmly. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Then just stay…” Bokuto said softly, tugging him back. Akaashi let himself be pulled down and allowed Bokuto to wrap him in his arms, even if he was unhappy about it. Bokuto held him tight, like he could hold him together, and kissed the salty tears from his cheeks, rubbed his back the way he liked until he stopped shaking and his breathing was a more even rhythm.

“You can talk to me,” he said after a while, gently.

He could feel Akaashi as he breathed, slowly, trying to collect himself. “I… I can’t.”

Bokuto pulled away to try and see his face but Akaashi tucked his head under Bokuto’s arm, to hide, like a small animal fearful of a hurricane.

“Sure you can. That’s what I’m here for.” He forced his voice to be light, playful even, to try and ease the pressure.

“I don’t know how,” he said, in a voice that had no strength behind it. Bokuto knew then that Akaashi had been struggling with this for a long time.

He ran his fingers through Akaashi’s hair, down his neck and up again, soothing, “Just… talk.” He suggested, hopeful.

Akaashi was quiet for a long time, too long, his tears coming and going again while Bokuto kissed his hair and held him tight. “I have…” Akaashi began, voice hollowed out and broken, “very bad dreams.”

Bokuto hesitated, thinking that maybe the phrase  _it’s just a dream_ wouldn’t be appropriate here. “That’s why you don’t sleep?”

Akaashi nodded, swallowing and muttering nonsense into Bokuto’s chest.

“Want to tell me about them?”

“No.”

Bokuto sighed. “You can, though. Whenever you want to…”

Akaashi nodded, his voice muffled by Bokuto’s shirt, damp with his tears, “Just… tell me you’re not dead.”

Ice filled Bokuto’s chest and he moved to lay down close to him, wrapped his arms more securely around him and held him tight. Akaashi began to shake again, fisting his hands into Bokuto’s shirt.

“I’m right here,” Bokuto said firmly, kissing his hair. “I’m here.” He said it like a mantra, whispering it into Akaashi’s ear until he stopped crying, then kissed him until he stopped shaking. “Go to sleep now,” he said, stroking his hands down Akaashi’s spine, kissing his cheek then tucking his head into his chest. “I’ll keep the dreams at bay.”

Akaashi sniffed, muttered an apology about Bokuto’s shirt, but laid his head down anyway, closing his eyes and clinging to Bokuto like a lifeline. He was exhausted and it didn’t take long for him to drift into sleep, but Bokuto stayed awake until morning, guarding him like a sentry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. ~ the answer to Bokuto’s owl pun is: They like to wing it. :]


	19. Baby Steps

February and March came and went. Akaashi was on break from school for a week before the start of his third year and he spent the entire week with Bokuto and his family. Bokuto’s rehab was progressing more and more, and after a month of strengthening exercises he was able to try standing.

Akaashi had been there, sitting in the living room while Bokuto and Kaito worked together.

“Want to try to stand?” Kaito asked with a big smile.

Bokuto’s matching grin was even bigger. “Absolutely!”

Kaito and Akaashi laughed together, and Kaito stood in front of Bokuto and gripped his forearms. “Alright, what I want you to do, carefully mind you, is stand but put all your weight on your good leg. Then _slowly_ ,” he emphasized this word very specifically, “put your other foot on the ground and let your weight gradually balance out. Don’t try to stand only on it, let your good leg do most of the work.”

“Okay!” Bokuto gripped his arms and pulled himself up with almost too much enthusiasm, nearly sending them both toppling. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he rattled off, eyes focused on the ground, bright with excitement.

Kaito held his arms firmly, giving him something to hold onto for balance. “You good? Alright, slowly lower your foot. If it hurts too much — stop.”

Nodding, a little breathless, Bokuto did, his toes touched the floor and he sucked in a breath, held it while he pressed the rest of his foot to the floor. Akaashi leaned around to see better, curious and excited.

Bokuto was amazed. “It doesn’t hurt!” He looked as happy as he did when they won a game, even though his muscles trembled from the exertion of the exercise.

Kaito beamed at him. “What I want you to do then, very carefully, put enough weight down until you feel pressure. Don’t let it be painful, but you’ll be able to tell when you should stop.”

Bokuto looked at his feet and Akaashi could see the minute shifting of his weight, the way his brain was working to find the sweet spot between pressure and pain and not push too far. He must have found it because he stopped and looked up at Akaashi, eyes wide and glittering with joy.

Akaashi smiled back, pleased at this development. “That’s amazing, Bokuto.”

Bokuto’s chest swelled with pride, beaming. Kaito was watching him carefully. “That looks good. Do you want to sit down again?”

“No I wanna stand forever.” He laughed, jubilant.

“Give it a few more months and you can. Here, sit back down, don’t hurt yourself.” Kaito lowered him back to the couch. “How’d that feel?”

“Good! Great! Can we do it again?”

Kaito shook his head. “Not right now. But I am giving you homework. You need to begin to teach your muscles what you expect of them. Be firm, but don’t push it. I want you to practice standing,” he glanced at Akaashi, “with help, a few times a day with plenty of rest in between. It’s just like building strength, telling your body how to support you again.”

Bokuto looked over at Akaashi. “Will you help?”

“Absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

The night before Akaashi’s first day of his third year they curled up together on Bokuto’s bed, Bokuto hugging Akaashi close to his chest and saying, “Sleep well, I’ll keep your dreams away.”

Akaashi grumbled, but Bokuto could hear the smile in his voice. “You don’t have to say that every night.”

“Of course I do,” Bokuto countered, kissing his head. “It’s the truth. It seems to be working, too.”

“Really?” Akaashi sounded skeptical. “I guess… I don’t recall any of my dreams when I’m here.”

“Well, whenever you get fidgety I just hug you and talk to you until you calm down.”

Akaashi pulled away to frown at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bokuto grinned. “Actually last night we talked.”

“....We did not…” Akaashi sounded nervous and he inched even further back to look Bokuto fully in the face.

“Yup! You mumbled a lot and I didn’t catch most of it but I did hear my name.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice to his most alluring whisper, “Were you dreaming of me, Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s face blushed all the way to his ears and he flipped away, turning his back to Bokuto. “Stop that you —”

Bokuto wiggled his hands under Akaashi’s hips and tugged him until their bodies were flush together. He could angle his hips just right until Akaashi made little noises and sighs of pleasure in the darkness. “Come onnnn,” he said, dragging his tongue up his ear. “Tell me.”

Akaashi wriggled against him. “You’re disgusting,” but he didn’t say it with any force, and in fact his hand reached up to tangle his fingers in Bokuto’s hair to hold him against his neck. Bokuto kissed his throat, brushing with his teeth until Akaashi moaned under him. Akaashi turned his head to catch Bokuto’s mouth in a kiss, all tongue and teeth pulling on lips; it was wet and messy and Bokuto took the opportunity to snake his hand over Akaashi’s hip. Akaashi whimpered as Bokuto’s fingers maneuvered, slipping into his shorts when Akaashi didn’t protest and rocking his hips when Akaashi pushed back against him.

In the morning, as Akaashi was dressing for school Bokuto reached for him. “Good luck.”

Akaashi touched his fingers. “It’s just school.”

“Don’t you have practice?” Bokuto yawned, laying his head back down and thinking he could catch another hour of sleep.

“Yeah…” Akaashi said slowly, unsure. “It’ll be even more strange with the other third years gone. I never like the first few weeks after a team change. Plus we’re having to change almost everyone on the court since you all left.”

Bokuto opened one eye to watch him expertly twist his tie into place. “You’re officially Captain now.”

“I know.”

Bokuto grinned. “You don’t sound happy about that.”

“I’m just not a leader like you. I don’t know if I can do it well…”

“I believe in you.”

Akaashi sighed. “Thank you, Bokuto. I can’t come back tonight, but I’ll come in a few days.”

Bokuto reached for him and Akaashi let himself be pulled down against his chest and be thoroughly kissed. “Have more confidence, ‘kaashi, your face is prettier that way.”

“Oh my God, stop.” Akaashi pulled away, patting his chest. “I’ll text you. Don’t send me stupid memes. I can’t be laughing in class.”

“Ah-ha!” Bokuto beamed. “So you  _do_ like them!”

Akaashi shook his head, grinning. “Goodbye, Bokuto.”

“Have a good day! Learn something!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very short chapter, but a nice long one is coming tomorrow!


	20. Connections

Golden Week was upon them and Akaashi was gone for three days. Bokuto sat stringing together more of his birds, he was up to almost four hundred now, and trying to drown the loneliness in his heart with candy. Akaashi had brought him a late White Day gift of chocolates and caramels and sweet pastries and it was taking him a long time to go through them because there was so much. He had even accused Akaashi of trying to make him even more fat, to which Akaashi had only laughed and told him to count his abs to see how wrong he was.

His phone rang suddenly and he grasped for it. “Hey, hey, hey!”

“Yo,” Kuroo said from the other end of the line. “How are you?”

Bokuto tried not to sigh. “Oh, Kuroo, hey.”

“Wow, sound happier to hear from me why would you?”

“Sorry.” Bokuto chuckled. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Oh?” Kuroo’s smirk was evident in his voice. “Girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend.”

He laughed. “Nice.”

Bokuto blurted before he could stop himself, “It’s Akaashi!”

“Oh, he’s pretty. Very good. How the hell did you manage that?”

“Just broke my leg, that’s all.”

“Psh, that’s nothing.”

He liked the ease of their friendship. Ever since they’d met, years ago, even back when they were kids, they’d never had to try hard to entertain each other. They just matched in that way. They could go weeks and weeks without speaking but the moment they were back together everything was the same easy friendship. Kuroo was his best friend in that way, if you counted time and not proximity. “What are you up to, bro?”

“School.” Kuroo sighed. “It’s all very boring. Yaku and I are roommates, we found a place just outside school.”

He knew that Kuroo had decided to go to University of Tokyo to study mathematics and science, like the nerd was. “That’s cool, I’m surprised though. Don’t you guys fight a lot?”

He could hear Kuroo shrug. “Eh, sometimes. It’s fine though. How’s your leg, man?”

“Mhm...all right. I can stand sometimes, now.”

Kuroo was quiet, and Bokuto heard the sounds of a train in the background. “That sucks, dude… I really can’t even imagine. But hey, it’s getting better.”

“Slowly. _So_ slow. But… eventually they think I can play volleyball again. But mostly I’d just like to walk.”

Kuroo whistled in a low tone. “That’s rough. Look, I hope that happens soon, but I’ll have to call you back. I’ve got to go to class. I know I should have called sooner but I’ve just been busy. I wanted to check on you.”

“Oh…”

“Yo, man, don’t worry. I’ll keep in touch. I’ll come over some weekend, promise.”

“Uh-huh,” Bokuto said, leaning back and taking another bite of caramel.

“Seriously,” Kuroo said with certainty, then hung up after they said goodbye.

Bokuto sighed, flexed his foot and winced, then groaned at the sensation of pain. “Stupid foot, just get better already,” he told it before eating another piece of candy. He flipped through the channels on television for a half hour but nothing could hold his attention. He checked his contacts and finally decided to call Saru, because he’d always made time for him.

They exchanged pleasantries before Saru said, “Are you still at home?”

“Duh… can’t go anywhere,” Bokuto muttered sadly.

“Cool, I’m in town. I’ll come over.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, give me like twenty minutes. See you.”

 And so, right on the dot, Saru knocked and came in, smiling and looking like he’d grown taller. Though that could be just because Bokuto was sitting down and Saru came to stand next to him and squint at him.

“What, you being lazy?”

Bokuto tried to punch his arm, but he leapt out of the way. “Ass. No, but I’ve got crutches.” They made his arms ache after only a few minutes of work so he’d asked his mother to get him some weights to workout with but she hadn’t brought them home yet. He’d decided that once he ate the rest of his candy that he’d start trying to lose the weight he’d gained and build muscle, he’d promised himself that within a year that he’d be even more in shape than before his accident.

Saru grinned and moved closer. “Weird. But you look better. Your hair is really long.”

Bokuto scowled and ran his fingers through it, trying to push it up but it was too long now to actually stay in place. “Yeah, as soon as I’m able to get out of the house I’m going to get it cut. How are you? Where are you in school?”

“Sōdai.” Saru sat beside him. “I’m hoping to be a teacher in a few years.”

Bokuto frowned. “You?”

“Yeah, I like kids.”

“Huh.” Bokuto was stumped. “Weird, but that would be interesting for you. You were always good at school.”

Saru smirked. “Unlike you.”

“Shut up!” Bokuto laughed. “You were a good tutor, actually. The more I think about it the more I like the idea of you being a teacher. Just don’t teach them the way you taught me.” Bokuto remembered several study sessions that, if he got answers wrong, he’d have to strip clothing off and whenever he got them right he’d get kisses and other various romantic and sexual favors. Bokuto had really enjoyed studying with Saru but he hadn’t really learned much.

“Nooo,” Saru was saying, “not a good idea.” He leaned closer, smiling. “But how are you doing in that department, anyway? Are you studying for your college exams?”

Bokuto felt his cheeks reddening. “Yeah… but Akaashi is helping me.”

“Is he?”

“He’s at the Golden Week training camp right now, though.”

“Bummer. You should really study.” He touched Bokuto’s hand, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.

Bokuto shifted, uncomfortable because he really  _had_ liked being with Saru… he was talented in ways that Bokuto missed because unfortunately Akaashi was very selfish with his body and Bokuto wanted to respect his wishes even if it was killing him. Bokuto squirmed, squeezing his legs together and pulling his hand away. “No, Saru, it’s not that big of a deal right now. I’ve got a few months. I’m trying to focus on walking instead.”

“Mhm-hmm.” Saru laughed. “How hard is it?”

Bokuto wiggled his toes and bent his knee so that audible popping sounds were heard. Saru winced in sympathetic pain. “Yeowch.”

“Yeah… I’m allowed to put my weight on it now, but I still have to be very careful when I’m moving around.”

Saru looked at the crutches and cocked his head. “But you can walk?”

“I can hop like a bunny and hold my leg up like an injured dog.”

“I’m just glad those pins are gone, they were creepy.” Saru shuddered, making a disgusted face.

“You’re telling me.” Bokuto laughed. “But now it’s just a long process of building strength again. It’s not like learning to walk again, it’s more like forcing my leg to remember what muscles are.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Yeah…”

Saru took his hand again and turned it over, tracing the lines of his palm. “Where are you thinking of taking exams?”

“Uh…” Bokuto swallowed, Saru’s fingers were gentle and alluring as they moved up towards his wrist. “Tokyo, I guess. They’ve got lots of programs to choose from and they’ve got a good volleyball team.”

“Blue and black uniforms, if I recall.” Saru’s eyes met his, and Bokuto realized he’d leaned closer. “You look good in blue.”

“Ah… thank you.” He glanced away, swallowing hard. “Look, Saru, you can’t be doing that.”

“Doing what?” His fingers slipped upwards towards Bokuto’s bicep.

“Touching me like that…”

Saru sighed, then kissed Bokuto’s hand. “You don’t like me anymore?”

“Aren’t you dating that girl?”

“Oh, no. She dumped me.”

“....Sorry. I’m seeing someone, though.” Once again, Bokuto pulled his hand away, folding them safely over his chest this time.

Saru leaned back, looking him over. “Really? Is it the old Nekoma captain? Kuroo?”

“Ha! No, not him.”

“Who, then?” Saru smirked, squinting as if trying to read Bokuto’s mind.

“Uh…” Bokuto rubbed the back of his neck. “Akaashi, actually.”

“Oh, really? He finally did it?”

Bokuto’s eyes widened and he ogled at him. “What? Do what?”

“He’s liked you forever.”

Incredulous, “No he hasn’t.”

“Yeah, he has. He liked you, like, the first week he met you.”

Bokuto’s mouth fell open in shock. He tried to think back, to see the signs, and yeah, Akaashi was often watching him — but he was the  _setter_. He would sit with him during lunch and they would hang out, but they were  _friends_. “Damn it!” Bokuto punched his mattress. “Are you serious?”

Saru laughed. “Yeah, I asked him and he got that  _look,_ y’know?”

“...Yeah…” Bokuto knew the look. The one that made Akaashi’s cheeks pink and his eyes dart away but a ghost of a smile play at his lips.

“Is it nice, though?”

“What?”

“Is he nice, I mean? Like as a boyfriend? He seems like he wouldn’t be? He’s so quiet. And mean to you.”

Bokuto scowled. “He’s not mean.”

“He’s called you out on your bullshit on more than one occasion.”

“I was being an idiot,” Bokuto said sharply, then sucked in a breath when he realized what he’d said. Damn, he’d never meant to admit that he knew that he’d been a frustrating and annoying part of the team when he couldn’t get his emotions in check.

Saru snickered. “You  _were_. But still — if you’re happy, good for you.”

“... Thanks.”

“Fine, fine,” Saru leaned back, patted Bokuto’s leg. “Too bad, I always thought we were good together.”

“It was fun.” Bokuto smiled warmly.

“Mhm-hmm.” Saru looked up at the string of birds on the ceiling, “What’s all this? You going for a wish?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping to be done with them before my rehab is over.”

“Know what you’ll wish for?”

Bokuto looked up at the birds, a smile touching his face. “I dunno. World peace?” Really, he was too embarrassed to tell Saru what he really wanted… he had decided that his wish would be to make Akaashi happy, in every way. He wanted to give him the world and make the laughter in his eyes become permanent instead of the exhausted and haunted look they had late at night or when he thought he wasn’t being watched.

“Loser.” Saru laughed, leaning back too. “I’d wish for, like, ten million yen or something.”

 

* * *

 

Akaashi came back from camp four days later and Bokuto hugged him for so long that Akaashi actually had to pry himself away.

“I missed you.” Bokuto pouted, taking Akaashi’s hands in his. Akaashi looked tired, but Bokuto couldn’t tell if it was lack of sleep or physical exertion, but he was worried about how Akaashi had slept being away from him for so long. Akaashi wouldn’t tell him, of course, so he could only hope to help him sleep well tonight.

Akaashi grinned. “I missed you, too.”

“How’d the camp go?”

Akaashi took his hands back so that he could pull out his school books to do homework he’d neglected. “It was a little rough. The new team isn’t nearly as good as last year. Everyone is good, they just aren’t used to working together. The first year setter is good —”

“Not as good as you.”

Akaashi pretended he hadn’t spoken, “But he’s too nervous. He doesn’t like to make decisions too quickly.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of a setter?”

“Yes, unfortunately. I get the feeling he’s just nervous because he isn’t used to such high calibre players. His middle school wasn’t very good.”

“But you can teach him, right?”

Akaashi shrugged, sitting at the desk. “I’m going to try. Wataru is holding up well, he’s a nice steady balance to the wild first years.”

“Oh, I miss him. He was fun.”

Akaashi smiled. “He sends his regards. How are you doing, Bokuto? You didn’t tell me about your rehab at all.”

Bokuto reached for him. “Lemme show you!” Akaashi hesitated so Bokuto said, “No, no, don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Just help me up.”

Akaashi came over and gripped Bokuto’s hands and Bokuto hauled himself up so he was standing. He took a moment to balance himself then detached his hands and held them up, smiling wide. “All by myself!”

Akaashi’s hands were hovering, worried, ready to catch him if he fell. “Very good, that’s a lot of progress, Bokuto.”

“Aren’t you proud?” Bokuto beamed, holding his arms out wide.

He loved the smile on Akaashi’s face. “Very proud. Now sit down before you get hurt.”

Bokuto pulled Akaashi into his arms and hugged him, nuzzling into his hair and grinning to himself. “I like this.” He touched Akaashi’s chin and angled his face up, smiling down at him. “I like this better.”

“Mhm, Bokuto, I never realized how much taller you are than me.”

“I think it’s great,” he smiled, then ducked his head and kissed Akaashi, holding him close even as his muscles shook with the effort of holding him up. They kissed and Bokuto could feel the pull of Akaashi’s lips as he smiled, then his breath as he laughed. It made Bokuto all warm and happy inside, like a sun had been born on the planet that was his heart. 

“Ah, sit down, please.” Akaashi chuckled, pulling away and glancing at their feet. “I can feel you trembling.”

Bokuto let himself sink back onto his mattress, his hands sliding down to rest on Akaashi’s hips. “Do you really have to do homework?”

“I really, really do.”

“I don’t even get a reward for doing so well?”

Akaashi laughed, leaned down and kissed him again, thoroughly and with an ardor that shocked Bokuto but pleased him to no end. He reached up and hooked his arms around Akaashi’s neck to hold him there until he was hot with desire. “Don’t do your work,” Bokuto murmured against his mouth, leaning back, trying to pull Akaashi down on top of him.

Akaashi groaned, keeping himself sturdily standing. “I have to. I was supposed to do it before camp but  _someone_ did this exact thing and distracted me all evening with kisses and television.”

“Mhm, that someone is about to do it again.” Bokuto pulled more firmly and, with a shout and an  _oof_ Akaashi fell atop him. “Ah, better.” Bokuto said, pulling Akaashi up and kissing him again.


	21. Surprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this has been my absolute favorite chapter to write so far and I'm SO FREAKING EXCITED TO SHARE IT WITH YOU GUYS. I put a lot of research and thought into it and I hope you guys enjoy it :D

Akaashi leaned over the pile of blankets and glanced at the time.  _Ten thirty_. He poked the pile. “You should be awake.”

The pile grumbled at him and muttered impolite things. “Sleepy.”

He yanked the blankets off and Bokuto jerked up into a ball, making a pitiful sound at the cold morning air hitting his skin.

“Come on, get up. I’ve got plans for us today.”

One golden yellow eye squinted open curiously. “Eh?”

“I’m taking you out,” Akaashi declared, smiling.

Bokuto blinked, then smiled and uncurled himself, stretching his arms up and wincing at the morning stiffness in his muscles. “Really?”

“Only if you get up.”

“Gimme a kiss first.”

Akaashi laughed, did so, then pulled Bokuto into a sitting position. He ran his fingers through Bokuto’s too long hair as Bokuto leaned his head on Akaashi’s chest, yawning. “Did you not get any sleep last night? I thought I was supposed to be the one with sleep problems in this relationship.”

“Mhm…” Bokuto lifted Akaashi’s shirt and nuzzled his way underneath, his breath warm against Akaashi’s skin. He’d learned to just accept sleepy morning Bokuto for what he was: harmless and cuddly. Most mornings it was endearing, even if it did cause Akaashi to have to jog to school. “New season of a show was released and I wanted to watch it.”

Akaashi let his fingers trail down to Bokuto’s shoulders, rubbing his palms over them, “You shouldn’t binge things like that.” Bokuto only hummed and mumbled. “Come on, get dressed. We have appointments to keep.”

Akaashi called a taxi and by the time it was in front of his house Bokuto was leaning on his crutches, dressed in jeans to go out for the first time in months. He was practically quivering with excitement, the big black boot on his leg in place and yet not worn with the same disdain as usual. Today it would help him feel more stable if he needed to let himself rest instead of being a precautionary weight that he felt was holding him back.

Akaashi helped him duck into the car and place the crutches across their legs before the car began driving. Akaashi gave the address and began checking his phone for last minute appointment confirmations.

Bokuto was enraptured by the spring air outside the car. The cherry blossoms were long gone, but the streets were alive with activity. People going here and there, busy with their lives, and Bokuto sighed with envy of their freedom. He pressed his cheek to the window to gaze up at the sky, a smile plastered to his face. “Where are we going?” He asked after a good ten minutes of admiration, turning to face him.

“It’s a surprise,” Akaashi told him.

“Yeah, but what is it?”

Akaashi grinned, but carefully avoided eye contact in case Bokuto’s enthusiasm was contagious. He didn’t want to ruin the day with premature revelations. “You’re going to like it.”

“Are we going out to eat?”

“I’m not telling you!” Akaashi laughed.

“I can keep a secret.”

“Ha — ha,” he said it aloud, not a laugh, because the idea that Bokuto could keep anything a secret was so outlandish. “One, no you can’t. Two, I’m still not telling you. Just wait. Patience is a virtue.”

Bokuto pouted, leaned against the window again, but he wasn’t really upset. Akaashi didn’t think anything could upset him today. Especially not with what he had planned.

When they pulled up to the salon, Bokuto’s eyes got wide and he whipped around to beam at Akaashi. “Is this it!?”

Akaashi smiled back. “Partially, yes. Your hair is much too long, plus I thought it would cheer you up.”

Bokuto’s smile was contagious, he was so happy. “Oh my God you’re amazing,” he gushed, clamoring out of the car behind Akaashi. “Really, this is awesome, I can’t believe — it’s so thoughtful —”

“Okay, okay,” Akaashi cut him off, touching his shoulders and turning him carefully so that he could start maneuvering himself into the doors. “Your parents gave me the money for it, even if your mother said, and I quote,  _he still wants that weird bird hair_? But she knew it would make you happy.”

Bokuto stopped in the tiny lobby and leaned on one of the crutches for balance, smiling at him. “Yeah, she never liked it. But you do, right?”

“If I didn’t you think I’d bring you here?” Bokuto shrugged. “Well, yes, I do like it. It makes you look so very handsome.” Before Bokuto could reply a woman stepped up to them and Akaashi told her of the appointment. She took Bokuto back to a chair and Bokuto immediately started chatting away. His voice carried over the small shop and, after telling her what he wanted, they began talking like they’d known each other their entire lives. Bokuto was good at that, at making friends, and Akaashi was both envious and exultant. Akaashi barely spoke to Bokuto like that on a good day, content to let Bokuto carry the majority of the conversations, but sometimes he wished he could just talk about literally anything like Bokuto could.

For instance, he heard Bokuto go on and on with the girl about the pros and cons of different types of scissors.  _Who can talk about scissors for five whole minutes and not be sarcastic about it once?_ Akaashi waited in the little front lobby, glancing through his phone and watching the progress in the salon until he was satisfied that Bokuto was almost done. It had taken longer than he’d thought, but that was fine, they still had plenty of time to get lunch and go to the main surprise of the day. He went over when the girl had stepped away for a moment and said to Bokuto, “I’m going to go to the store down the street and get us some bento for lunch.”

Bokuto looked up, his hair damp and messy from the washing that had just been done, “Okay!” He was too loud, but Akaashi couldn’t do anything other than smile at him. He’d liked the way Bokuto’s hair looked plastered to his forehead ever since he’d seen it after a sudden deluge during his first year when they had been out running.

He brushed his fingers over it, pushing the hair from Bokuto’s eyes, then kissed his forehead, “Be right back. Don’t give her too much trouble.”

 

* * *

 

They ate at a small table in a park near the salon, Bokuto still rocking side to side, unable to contain his joy at the replacement of his owl hair. Akaashi thought it was very fitting.

“This was the best surprise ever, ‘kaashi,” Bokuto said through a mouthful of spicy cod.

“It’s not over yet, this is just lunch,” Akaashi replied with a sly smile. The best part of the day wasn’t even upon them and his own stomach twisted with nervousness and excitement at what came next.

Bokuto turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”

“Mhm-hmm.”

“No!” His smile was an ever growing enigma. “Where else are we going?”

Akaashi laughed and finished his bite before promising, “You’re going to love it, that’s all I’ll say.”

“When?” Now Bokuto practically bounced up and down, much like a curious owl, which Akaashi laughed aloud at.

“Soon.”

Bokuto began shoveling his food in his mouth.

“Slow down!” Akaashi jabbed him in the arm with his fingers. “That won’t make me eat any faster. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Ah, but I’m so excited!”

“I know, but just wait. Enjoy your lunch. Wait, look at me,” he said. Bokuto turned and Akaashi shook his head. “You’re such a messy eater.” And, before he could stop himself, he leaned close and licked the pieces of rice off his cheek.

Bokuto blushed bright pink but grinned, then put a piece of rice on his lips and waited with a big dumb grin on his face. Akaashi raised his eyebrows and waited until Bokuto was squirming with impatience before he kissed him. Then he took Bokuto’s face in his hands and squished his cheeks with his palms. “You are a preposterous and unbelieveable creature, Bokuto.” The corners of Bokuto’s smile disappeared into his squished cheeks, making him look even more adorable. “God,” Akaashi breathed out, “I think I love you.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest, gasping as if suddenly struck. “I love you, too! Really, really, really!” he blurted, leaning forward and throwing his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders and hugging him tight. “You’re amazing. You’re beautiful, and wonderful, and funny, and — I’m dumb for not realizing it sooner —”

“Okay, okay,” Akaashi laughed, his brain fuzzy and his heart going crazy in his chest. “Stop. Let me go, please.”

“I just wanna hug you forever. You feel so good in my arms.”

Akaashi blushed, but let himself be cuddled for another few moments, secretly enjoying it, then patting Bokuto’s new fluffy feathers on his head. “Let me finish eating so we can go to your second surprise.”

Bokuto let him go like he was on fire, jittery once again with his excitement. “It’s not even my birthday.”

Akaashi shrugged, taking a bite of his beef. “So? Can I only spoil you on your birthday?”

Bokuto’s smile was slow, he tried to stop it, the muscles in his face twitching, but he started giggling and broke, laying his head on the table and looking up at him. “No… but only if I can do the same.”

“You can do whatever you want, Bokuto.”

 

* * *

 

They pulled up to the second surprise, but Akaashi told Bokuto to keep his eyes on the ground for maximum surprise factor. Bokuto unfolded himself from the car with more difficulty than before, hopping to the sidewalk and biting his lip.

“Come on, soon?”

“Let’s just get inside.” Akaashi guided him meticulously through the door then allowed Bokuto to raise his eyes. He watched the confusion, recognition, joy, _pure joy_ , and giddiness pass over his face and lighten his posture as he realized where they were. An owl cafe.

Owls lined tiny rods around the room, sat on tables, and swiveled their heads to stare at the two of them. The windows were covered with darkening curtains and the light in the room was dim so as to not hurt the owls eyes. Bokuto’s mouth opened, then closed again, his own eyes owlishly wide.

“Come, let’s sit down,” Akaashi said, pointing to a table that he knew was his. He took Bokuto to the table and took his crutches away, storing them safely under the table and out of the way. “I’ll be right back,” he told Bokuto. “Just sit tight.”

He left, going to the counter where a girl was watching them with a smile on her face. “You’re the three block session?” She guessed.

“Yes, thank you. I wanted him to have plenty of time.”

She laughed. “I see that. He looks happy.”

“You have no idea.” Akaashi smiled, glancing at Bokuto, who looked like an owl with the way he was twisting and turning to look around at everything. The owls looked back, some bobbing curiously, and Bokuto copied their movements until they blinked at him in confusion.

“Alright, I’ll be over there in a moment to guide you through the encounter,” the girl said after she typed onto her computer.

Akaashi went back to the table and laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to top this for your birthday.”

“This is literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Bokuto told him blatantly, watching a big owl that puffed up it’s feathers at him.

The girl came over, introduced herself as Suzuki, and told them the rules of the encounter. It was all the obvious things: no sudden movements, no loud noises, don’t put your face in their faces, don’t touch their faces, no flash photography, and the like. She told them that every owl had been rescued in one way or another, from injury or death or poaching, so some of them were extremely sensitive and they should be very careful and if any of the owls showed signs of distress they should simply sit still while she took the owl away for quiet time.

“Okay, ready for your first owl?”

Bokuto nodded emphatically. “We’ll be careful.”

She nodded and went to the wall, holding up a hand and one owl, one of the largest, hopped down from its perch and took something from her hand. She came back and let it hop onto the table, where it turned to stare at Bokuto. “This is Wasagi,” she told them. “He’s our Great Horned Owl.” She giggled as it padded over and raised itself up to look Bokuto in the face. “He likes you. Now, he likes you to hold up your hands to him before you touch him. Probably to make sure you don’t have food.”

Bokuto did, looking like he would vibrate straight out of his skin, the biggest smile on his face. He held his palms out to the owl and it rubbed its beak over each of his fingers, nipping occasionally and making Bokuto giggle each time and whisper reverently, “‘kaashi look, look,  _look_.”

When the owl was satisfied, it tilted its head and nuzzled into Bokuto’s fingers, so Bokuto ran his fingers over the top of it’s head and made a noise so high pitched Akaashi thought only the owls should have heard it. He snapped a picture with his phone, already planning to print it and hang it on his wall. Suzuki brought another tiny owl over and set it in front of Akaashi while Bokuto was enraptured with Wasagi.

“This is Ko,” she told him. “He likes it when you scratch his wing joint.” She showed him and Akaashi followed her example, marveling at how soft the little feathers were. This owl was several years older than Wasagi, but was significantly smaller, only about six inches tall, the name Pygmy Owl was wildly appropriate for the little creature. It chittered at him and Akaashi let it peck at his fingers since it didn’t seem to be trying to hurt him.

He laughed, then continued to pet the little owl until it hopped over to Bokuto, bobbing up and down and trying to get a good look at him. Wasagi didn’t seem to mind, so Bokuto pet the both of them, one with each hand.

“Bokuto-san, are you crying?”

“ _No,_ ” he replied, voice strained but happy.

Suzuki laughed and winked at Akaashi. “You know,” she said, “you look a bit like them.”

Bokuto beamed and Akaashi said, “I think you just made his day even better.”

She smiled. “Do you want to hold one?”

Bokuto gasped softly, nodding. “Please?”

“Of course.” She came around the table and showed him how to coax the owls onto his arm after she tied a strap of leather to his forearm to protect his skin. Bokuto was marvelously gentle with the owls, and once Wasagi was perched on his arm he held it up and pointed to it, looking at Akaashi. “Oh my  _god_ look at it Akaashi.” His voice was full of emotions, and Akaashi snapped another quick picture. “Look it’s a real  _owl_.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m  _holding_ a real owl,” Bokuto said again, in awe. He looked at the owl, then gasped when it opened its great wings and hopped onto his shoulder like it belonged there. It ducked its beak into Bokuto’s hair and began rumbling with a soft noise.

Suzuki was giggling herself. “He’s preening you.” She pressed a hand to her mouth, laughing and trying not to scare the owls.

Akaashi thought Bokuto’s face couldn’t have gotten any more happy, but it did. His smile was so wide it looked painful, but he was perfectly still, gazing up at the owl in a majestic sort of wonder, the way one might look upon the face of a goddess. Akaashi took another picture, already planning the picture book he would make of  _Times Bokuto Was a Real Owl_.

Suzuki would bring them owl after owl, letting them be pet and eventually letting them feed certain ones a warm, soft meat mixture that Akaashi didn’t dare ask what it was made of. She told them what each owl’s name was, and sometimes why it had been rescued. Wasagi had been captured by poachers as a hatchling. Another owl, a lovely snowy owl named Chiha, had been brought in with two broken and plucked wings, and had spent three years in recovery before being released back to the wild. She hadn’t left though, and eventually the owner of the cafe had taken her home. The owner came to meet them and told them how he had healed many of the owls himself, and kept them for one reason or another. He took them home each night and hand fed them and gave them each the space or the cuddles they needed.

“Some owls like the attention,” he told them as he showed them a fat grey owl that nuzzled his neck with its head affectionately. “Some of them rotate in and out of the cafe if they look stressed. But we don’t make them stay if they do not wish to stay.”

“I like how much you care for them,” Bokuto said, a fluffy wood owl perched on his head.

The owner laughed. “They are my children,” he said solemnly.

“Well,” Bokuto rubbed the cheeks of a barn owl, the only place she liked to be touched, “if you ever have a job opening, I’m definitely applying.”

“You seem to have a connection with them,” the owner told him, a smile on his face. “I would be happy to have you.”

Bokuto glanced at Akaashi, the happiness only growing. “Hear that? They like me.”

Akaashi was stroking the wing of another barn owl that sat almost sleeping on the table beside him. “That would be the job for you, wouldn’t it?”

“This one reminds me of myself,” Bokuto said gently, grinning as the long legged burrowing owl, Ohagi, waddled up to him and held open its wings for Bokuto to scratch him underneath the wings. Ohagi had been brought in with a broken leg and since burrowing owls used their feet more than their wings the injury had been detrimental to the little animal. Needless to say, Bokuto had identified with it and taken an instant liking to it. “How do you get into the owl saving business?” Bokuto asked the owner.

He shrugged. “I found a half dead owl frozen in my backyard ten years ago and nursed her back to health.” He pointed to a large barn owl that slept in the corner, face tucked under its wing.

Bokuto laid a hand on his cheek, watching the owls. “That’s so sad… but it seems to have turned out well. For you and for the owls.”

“It has made my life a joy,” the owner said, petting the owl on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, as they were on the car ride home, Bokuto looking more pensive and thoughtful than usual, Akaashi touched his arm. “What’s on your mind?”

Bokuto looked over at him, a smile flashing across his face. “The owls.”

Akaashi chuckled. “Did you have fun today?”

Bokuto took his hand, squeezed it between his own. “This has probably been the best day of my life. Thank you so much. I had so much fun with you.”

“I’m so glad,” Akaashi said, smiling. “You and the owner seemed to get along well.”

“I really liked him,” Bokuto admitted. “He’s very passionate.”

“Just like you.”

Bokuto smiled, looking down, playing with Akaashi’s fingers. “I really… I didn’t realize how … they are. They’re bigger and smaller than I expected. And the owls were much more lively than I thought.”

“They did all have their own personality,” Akaashi said. “I liked the little pygmy owl.”

“He liked you, he stayed beside you the whole time.” Bokuto chuckled. “But yeah, they’re all so special. I even think…” Here he paused, hesitated, as if making a declaration of merit. “I think that if volleyball doesn’t work out, I could try and work with them. I like the idea of helping them heal. Like you’re doing for me.”

Warmth spread through Akaashi’s insides at the gentleness in Bokuto’s face and the compassionate softness in his voice. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Bokuto.”

Bokuto smiled. “Did you get any good pictures?”

Akaashi took out his phone and flipped it around to show him the picture on the lock screen. “Yeah, you crying while holding this bird of prey.”

Bokuto laughed aloud. “I am not crying!”

“There are tears in your eyes!”

“Are not.” Bokuto took the phone and squinted at the picture, then scoffed. “Show me the others.”

Akaashi did, and with each picture Bokuto reminisced about each owl, remembering them with more detail than he did his English or World History notes and Akaashi listened with a smile on his face thinking,  _Yes, I think you would do just fine working with owls._

 


	22. Up and About

Papers scattered around him, empty coffee cups and candy wrappers littered the side of the workspace, and Bokuto was ready to pull his freshly styled hair out. He was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting with bated breath as Akaashi looked over his paper. His tutor was strict and expected near perfection so of course Bokuto almost never pleased him. He just wasn’t good at schoolwork, his mind didn’t accept these arbitrary facts the way it accepted volleyball and, apparently, owls.

Akaashi glanced up at him, face unreadable, and Bokuto wiggled unhappily. Akaashi looked back down, his finger moving down the page. “Well?” Bokuto asked nervously.

Akaashi didn’t say anything, the the frown lines on his forehead made Bokuto even more nervous. He waited, fingers drumming the table, huffing with each minute that passed.

“Please, Bokuto,” Akaashi said after a time, “Stop that. It won’t make me read any faster.”

“It’s taking so long, though.”

“It’ll take even longer the more you distract me.”

Bokuto stood. “I’ll cleanup, then.” He gathered the papers and stacked them into a pile because no matter what the outcome of the paper he needed a break. He and Akaashi had sat at the table for three hours doing their work. His brain was fried and he was so hungry he was about to start photosynthesizing sunlight. He picked up the coffee cups and hopped the two giant hops required by him to get to the sink and rinsed them out, glancing back at Akaashi as he bent over the paper.

He was allowed to start putting actual weight, almost all of it, on his foot now in preparation for walking but he wasn’t supposed to actually try it until next week after some rest. He’d gotten very good at balancing on one leg and leaping gleefully throughout the house, no matter how many times Akaashi scowled at him for it.

When he sat back down Akaashi was just finishing. He looked up and frowned at Bokuto.

Bokuto’s breath slowly left his body and he felt frustration seep into his veins like an extra layer of gravity. “Did I… do it wrong?”

Akaashi turned the paper and slid it over to him, holding his face impassive for too long. Much too long. Then, he smiled warmly. “It’s basically perfect.”

Bokuto gasped. “Really!?”

“Yes.” Akaashi chuckled softly. “Other than a few grammatical errors, all the information is correct.”

Bokuto collapsed onto the table, groaning, “Oh thank God!”

Akaashi smiled, standing. “I’m very proud of you. You actually learned something.”

Bokuto scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Does that mean we can go now?”

“Of course.” Akaashi had promised him that they would go to the park down the street since Bokuto could go that far now without being exhausted. Bokuto stood, and Akaashi brought him his crutches so they could leave.

“Can we get food?” Bokuto asked, waiting as Akaashi closed the door before hopping carefully down the small steps.

“Sure. I hear there’s a new crêpe vendor somewhere near the park.”

“Ohhhhh I love those.” Bokuto’s mouth began to prematurely water. “I need like six of them.”

Akaashi shook his head, matching his pace to Bokuto’s as they walked. “How about two and we see if we can find a restaurant somewhere if you’re still hungry?” Bokuto had started working out again, lifting weights and doing push ups and just generally being more active, so his intake needs were increasing exponentially and sometimes Akaashi wondered where the hell he put it all.

“Mhm — that ramen place is close by.”

“Fine, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

At the park, Bokuto picked a table bathed in sunlight so he could soak it in. Akaashi left him there to go find the food merchant, only got Bokuto one crêpe but made sure it had extra of the savory chicken filling, and by the time he came back, Bokuto looked rooted to the spot, head thrown back and face to the sun, a smile on his face as he absorbed its warmth. Akaashi sat beside him, nudging his arm to get his attention.

“Oh, thanks,” Bokuto said as he devoured half of it in one bite. “Just the one?”

“For now, yes.”

Bokuto shrugged, content for now. “That looks fun.”

Following his gaze, they watched children playing a very competitive looking game of badminton. “Really? I hate that game,” Akaashi told him.

“No you don’t.” Bokuto laughed. “Do you really?”

“Yes, I’m not very good at it. My hand eye coordination isn’t as good with a racket in my hand.”

“Huh.” Bokuto seemed deeply disturbed, and vowed, “I’ll teach you once I’m better.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“But it’s so fun!”

Akaashi sighed, already dreading the activity. “...Fine.”

“Don’t you have a tournament next weekend?” Bokuto was sucking clean his fingers of the sauce left over from his crêpe.

“Yes, but I don’t think we’ll win. We play Nekoma in the first bracket.”

“Ah, those kitty cats? You can do it.”

Akaashi leaned on the table, picking out pieces of onion he didn’t want. “I mean it’s always possible. But, like I said, the first years are nervous. The team is totally different. We’re good, we beat them once or twice during the practice games, but they’ve still got Kozume and all the other second years from last year. They’ve got several winning games under their belt as this new configuration and they seem very comfortable. Whereas us… we still seem to be fumbling. It’s quite frustrating because I know we could do so much better if we had more time.”

Bokuto leaned on the table, watching the children play. “All you can do is play one game at a time. And do your best. Enjoy the time you have…”

“I always do,” Akaashi said solemnly. And he did, truly. No matter how frustrated he was with the game or the team or the day, he always took a moment to stop and thank whoever was listening that he was able to play. He knew things could change any moment. He tried to enjoy it for Bokuto, and always told Bokuto as much as he could about their practices and games since Bokuto hung on his every word until he could get back on his feet and play the game himself.

“I know you do.” Bokuto sighed, then his face changed, the fake smile he did that he thought Akaashi couldn’t see through. “Want to go get ramen?”

“Bokuto, you  _just_ ate,” Akaashi said, exasperated.

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Just sit and enjoy the day for a bit. I’m still eating.”

“You’re a slow eater.”

“No, you’re just a dinosaur who can’t control himself around food.”

 

* * *

 

The day of the tournament Bokuto took a train to the stadium and marveled at how easy it was becoming. His body was recovering well, and with how much he was exercising his arms the crutches weren’t difficult to maneuver with anymore. Honestly he thought he might need to get bigger shirts because the one he was wearing was awfully tight in the chest and arms. He wondered if he could do that badass thing where you flex and rip your shirt off. Now he wanted to try it in front of Akaashi and hoped he would applaud the feat.

At the stadium he got a program and wandered around until he found the Fukurodani team in the alcove of a back hallway. “Akaashi!” He called, waving with one of his crutches.

Akaashi turned, and made a face Bokuto couldn’t interpret. He looked annoyed? He pulled his jersey on and came over. “What are you doing here, Bokuto-san?”

“So formal.” Bokuto pouted. “What’s up with that?”

Akaashi folded his arms, giving him the look he reserved for when he was really annoyed. “How’d you get here?”

“Train,” Bokuto said proudly.

“I told you you should have just watched it online. I worry about you walking around by yourself.”

Bokuto laughed. “I made it here just fine.”

“But what if you hadn’t?” Akaashi countered, frustrated. “What if you had fallen?”

“Tch, there’s like a million people in the city. Surely one of them would have helped me up.”

A vein bulged in Akaashi’s throat as he inhaled sharply, ready to chew Bokuto out. To avoid this Bokuto leaned around him and waved to the others. “Wataru!”

The tall boy looked up, smiled, and came over to greet him. “Bokuto! It’s good to see you. You look well.” The knocked fists and Akaashi folded his arms with a frown.

“What’s up, man? How are you?”

Wataru shrugged. “Not much, not much. You got those things out?”

“The pins? Yeah, a while ago. I’m hopping around to my heart's content now.” Bokuto grinned. He glanced to the rest of the team to see a small boy staring at him, wide eyed. “Hey, hey, hey!”

The boy beamed and bounced over, and Akaashi silently pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Bokuto-senpai!” the boy said happily. “I’ve wanted to meet you for years!”

_senpai. senpai. senpai._ Bokuto’s chest swelled with pride and joy and he was all warm and stupidly happy inside. “Hey, little dude!” Bokuto grinned at him, standing straighter and beaming, ignoring Akaashi looking more and more annoyed by the moment. He didn’t know what his problem was but in the face of this adoring young fan ( _he had a fan)_ he didn’t care.  

“Are you going to be alright?” The boy asked, eyes wide. “I’d  _love_ to play with you!”

“Sure I am, I’ll get back to it someday.” He patted his leg. “Just gotta work my way up to it.”

“Maybe — if you’d like — when you’re all healed, could we play together? I’ve looked up to you for years. I want to be the ace!”

“Yuuto-kun, please. Go get ready for warm-ups,” Akaashi said, more firmly than Bokuto thought he should have.

The boy, Yuuto, deflated with a sad look of his face. “Are you going to watch our game?”

Bokuto grinned and put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course. You’ve got my number on your chest, you’ve gotta live up to it, okay?”

He beamed. “I’ll make you proud!” Then he turned and bounced away.

Akaashi was still scowling at him and against his better judgement Bokuto snapped, “What?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“What the hell? I came to support you.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Akaashi took Bokuto by the shoulder and turned him, walked a few paces away and waited for Bokuto to follow him, then said in a low voice, “I meant you shouldn’t be  _here_. These kids, especially Yuuto, practically worship you. You’re a legend in the gym by now. Your presence  _here_ with the team is extremely distracting. They’re nervous as it is and you’re not helping.”

Bokuto glanced back at the team to see most of them watching their captain with nervous looks. He grumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“I know you don’t, but, please, go find a seat. We’re the first game and we’re on the first court so you should be able to get close.”

Bokuto sighed, leaned on one of his crutches. “Can I kiss you for good luck?”

Akaashi hesitated, glancing around. “We’re in public.”

“We were at the park the other day, too.” Still he wouldn’t look Bokuto in the face so he leaned forward. “Are you embarrassed of us?”

Akaashi scowled. “No. I just don’t… think it’s a good idea.”

Bokuto resorted to his puppy face, which usually got him his way. “Aw, why?”

“Later, Bokuto-san.”

Suddenly Bokuto’s chest tightened and he thought that maybe Akaashi really was ashamed to be with him. Or embarrassed. He straightened up and said, “... Alright. Good luck.” Then limped away on his crutches. He felt Akaashi’s eyes on him the entire way until he rounded the corner and made his way into the gymnasium. Carefully, so as not to slip and fall and not only injure himself but also make a fool of himself, he made his way down to floor level and found an empty seat with a good view. He leaned on his hand and sighed, his limbs and chest suddenly heavy with melancholy. Surely, surely… Akaashi wasn’t… pretending… was he? Would he stop answering Bokuto’s calls when one or both of them went off to college? His stomach twisted in painful, distressed knots, and he thought he might just throw up. Wasn’t that what Akaashi was worried about when they’d first started dating? Was he lying then? 

“Oyaoyaoya,” came a deep voice from behind him. Bokuto didn’t turn, didn’t have to to know that Kuroo would be lolloping down the steps, hands in his pockets, grin on his face. “And here he perches, the flightless owl, looking like he’s just lost his breakfast.” Kuroo said it like he was a narrating a nature documentary, and stepped over the seat then folded himself in beside Bokuto. “Why the long face?”

Bokuto turned, forced a smile onto his face. “Kuroo!” Then he gasped, truly pleased, “Yaku, hey!”

Yaku Morisuke smiled at him, sitting on the other side of Kuroo. He reached around to bump fists with him. “Hey, how are you?”

“Good, good. What are you guys doing here?”

Yaku said flatly, “I came to see if that scrub Lev has gotten any better since I left.”

Kuroo snickered. “Without you on his ass? Doubtful.”

Yaku snarled, and folded his arms. Bokuto laughed at how serious Yaku still was. “How’s school going?”

Kuroo leaned back, watching as the players began flooding onto the court. “Fine. Pretty boring, actually.”

“Do you guys still play volleyball?”

“Oh hell yeah.” Kuroo grinned. “It’s great, but we’re considered rookies again.”

“It’s really weird,” Yaku grumbled.

Bokuto leaned on his legs. “I’m thinking of taking the autumn exams for Tokyo.”

“Oh?” Yaku leaned around Kuroo to better look at him. “You could play with us, then.”

“I’m hoping.” Bokuto sighed wistfully.

“You’d have to call me Yaku-senpai!” Yaku practically shrieked, a big grin on his face, leaning over Kuroo in his excitement.

Bokuto snorted. “No fucking way, dude!”

“Yeah, we’d be upperclassmen! It’s  _polite_.”

“Ohhhh,” Kuroo purred, a smirk crossing his face. “Call me Kuroo-senpai,” he said it in a low, sultry tone that made Bokuto punch him.

“I’m older than you!” Bokuto laughed.

“By  _one month_.”

“And I’m older than  _you_ by one month, Bokuto,” Yaku raised himself up, chin raised, chest puffing out. “So I’m the oldest of all of us and you  _both_ should call me senpai.”

They both gave him scathing looks and he just laughed like the maniac he was. His eyes caught something on the court and he stood abruptly, hands fisted on his hips and yelled, his voice carrying so far that people on the other side of the gym turned to stare at him. “LEV! THAT WAS A SHODDY RECEIVE! GET YOUR FEET UNDER YOU AND DON’T RUN FROM THE BALL!”

Kuroo laughed so hard he had to lean on Bokuto to not fall off the bleacher. Lev turned his head, slowly, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. Yamamoto whipped around, arms raised in the air and waved at them and Kozume ignored them, as usual.

Even Akaashi turned to stare, then waved his hand to his team and gathered them back to him before the start of the game.

Kuroo, Bokuto, and Yaku watched the game together, shit talking as if they were the actual ones in the game. Fukurodani dominated in the first set, Yuuto was fast and serious, and much better than Bokuto had been in his first year. He was impressed with them as a whole, and thought they might win.

But, as Akaashi had foretold, they lost. Nekoma was just better at reading players, making decisions, and executing plays, especially as the game entered the last set. Bokuto huffed, leaned back and knocked his fist into his leg. “Damn. That sucks.”

Kuroo shrugged. “Sorry, dude. Little birdies didn’t stand a chance, though.”

“Hey,” Bokuto pointed a finger at him, “Owls are majestic birds of prey.”

“Who just got devoured by the cats.”

Bokuto scoffed. “Tell them I said congratulations.” He hoisted himself up, groaning. “Guess I’ll head home, then, since Akaashi doesn’t want me here.” He sighed, the cold feeling of loss trickling into his heart again.

Kuroo lounged on the bench, looked up at him. “We’re not too far from here. Now that you’re out and about, why don’t you come by our place sometime? We’ll have dinner, play some games, shoot the shit.”

Yaku muttered, “Just like old times, eh.”

Kuroo flipped a hand and laughed. “Just text me, we’ll call you a taxi or something.”

Bokuto smiled, loving Kuroo for the ease with which they could keep their friendship going. There was no confusion there, except for the six months they had tried dating, but that had ended quickly and they were joking around like normal less than four minutes after their mutually agreed upon breakup. Kuroo looked up at him, smile sly and wide, as if he was planning a crime, and Bokuto laughed, deciding that he’d commit any crime with Kuroo and enjoy every second of it. “You better make me bar-b-que,” he told them.

“Don’t trip up the stairs,” Yaku said as Bokuto turned to go, “I’ll help you up but I’ll laugh first.”


	23. Companions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there's a mild warning in this chapter for anyone uncomfortable with underage drinking. Technically they're all MONTHS away from legal drinking age but I'd still like to put this here for anyone who is uncomfortable with that. But it's.... 'safe' drinking, I suppose. i.e. they don't GO anywhere or drive or do anything stupid, etc. But just in case, I thought a warning was appropriate.  
> With that, onward!

Bokuto didn’t  _know_ that Akaashi was mad at him… but it certainly felt that way. He hadn’t come over after the tournament, he wouldn’t call or answer Bokuto’s calls, and would only sporadically respond to texts with one line answers that felt clipped and annoyed.  _no i can’t come today; i’m going to class i can’t talk; i’m just very busy right now bokuto._ So after a while… Bokuto stopped sending texts. It took several days for it to register, but now he knew Akaashi was mad at him, he didn’t know why, but he was done hurting himself by begging Akaashi to text him.

And as the next weekend rolled around he found himself hobbling up stairs to Kuroo and Yaku’s third floor apartment. He hated stairs and he wasn’t all together sure how he was going to come _back down_ the stairs, but he told future Bokuto to worry about that.

When he made it to the right apartment Yaku let him in with a smile and Bokuto paused in the doorway as the smell hit him. “Oh my  _God_ did Tetsu cook?”

Yaku smirked. “Sure did.”

“Aw, shit,” Bokuto moaned happily, kicking off his shoe then removed the black leg cast. He treated it more like a shoe now than a cast, and was grateful that it came off it all. He and Yaku went into the kitchen to find Kuroo slicing blackened fish and sliding it on to a large plate. He wore a black apron with an anthropomorphized piece of sushi on it.

“Bo.” Kuroo smiled at him. “Hey, man, glad you made it. Hope you’re hungry.”

Bokuto was practically drooling. Kuroo had spent a year right before high school thinking he might go into the culinary arts so he had spent that year researching and practicing how to force raw foods to do his bidding and turn into delicious works of art.

“And thirsty,” Yaku said, pulling out a case of beer from the refrigerator.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Girl in my class bought them but figured out she didn’t like the flavor, so I bought them off her.”

Bokuto ignored the fact that it was technically illegal for another year, because he didn’t care. “Hell yes!”

 They ate at a low table in the living room, drinking, enjoying Kuroo’s delicious meal of grilled mackerel, meat and potato stew, cucumber salad, miso soup, and rice. It was one of the best meals Bokuto had had in ages, and he scolded Kuroo from keeping his talent from the professional world.

The beer made him feel light and giddy, and he told them in a too fast, excitable way about the owl cafe that Akaashi had taken him to. He pretended that mentioning Akaashi didn’t hurt him, even though it did, and gushed about the owls instead to try and hide the fact even from himself.

“Look, see? This one is Wasagi.” He showed them the picture of the owl preening his hair. “He likes me!”

Yaku laughed, a loud and boisterous laugh. His cheeks were pink and he was significantly more drunk than either Kuroo or Bokuto, but neither of them mentioned that it was probably because he was so small. They didn’t want to die today. “Dude, it looks like you!”

“Doesn’t it?!” Bokuto beamed at him, gleeful. “He was, like, kidnapped or something as an egg and no matter what the rescue people did they couldn’t get him to properly hunt so they never felt comfortable releasing him. He’s the nicest owl  _ever_ and I wanted to bring him home with me.”

Kuroo hummed, sipping his beer slowly. “That’s cool, you gonna go back?”

“Yeah, I even told the guy that owns it that I would try and apply for a job there.”

“Really? What’d he say?”

“He said, get this, that he’d be  _happy to have me!_ ”

Kuroo and Yaku shared the same look of pleased shock and amusement, then as Bokuto told them more and more about the other owls, showed them pictures, Kuroo stopped him at one and took the phone from him to squint at the screen. “Dude, are you crying?”

Bokuto reached for his phone. “No! Why does everyone ask me that?”

Kuroo held the phone out of reach, cackling. “Cause you fuckin’  _are_ , that’s why.”

“Let me see!” Yaku held up a hand and Kuroo flicked the phone over to him. He looked at the screen and beamed. “You’re crying,” he declared with a satisfied air.

Bokuto huffed. “I am not.” He stuffed fish into his mouth, aggravated. He had been emotional, yes, but he hadn’t been crying. He snatched his phone back and held it close. “I’m not showing you any more owls.”

Kuroo snickered. “Because you're crying in the rest of them?”

“Shut up!” Bokuto would have thrown rice at him but he’d eaten it all.

They laughed, then Kuroo asked, “So you might be coming here in September?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said after a long drink to hide his embarrassment. “I’m taking the exam in August… hopefully I can study enough by then. Was it hard?”

“It wasn’t as hard as I thought, but it’s no easy thing,” Yaku told him, leaning on the table and drinking. “You just have to take the time to think through your answers when you take the test.”

Bokuto sighed, but Kuroo waved a hand. “Dude, stop. Stop it. We’re not here to be all stressed out and worried. Don’t sour the meal.”

“Okay then,” Bokuto suggested, “Tell me about your classes.”

Kuroo’s face twisted. “Boring.”

“Volleyball, then?”

Yaku perked up. “Oh, it’s great. We’ve got some really good players, and the fourth year Libero is a fucking fanatic.”

“He’s a lunatic,” Kuroo added.

“But he’s amazing. It’s so cool to watch. I want to film him playing so I can watch it and copy everything he does so I can get better.” His eyes had little stars in them, and he held a fist to his chest.

“You make it sound like he’s your idol or something.”

“He might be.” Yaku sighed dreamily.

“Well hopefully I get to meet him.” Bokuto smiled. “I do plan on trying out when I get here. You guys put in a good word for me.”

Kuroo leaned back on his arms, smirking. “You sure you don’t suck now?” His tone was light, but Bokuto felt the words like a vice grip on his heart. He scoffed outwardly, waving Kuroo’s concern away, but only so he could push down the fear bubbling up in his throat. Of course he thought he might be the worst volleyball player in the world now. Those thoughts plagued his dark times.

“No way,” he said to Kuroo, forcing that smile. “You just wait. I’ll come back even better than before.” His phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced down, and the twisting in his stomach intensified. Akaashi had texted him, said only  _make sure you do your homework_. Bokuto scowled at the phone and shoved it under the table, intent on ignoring it for the evening. If Akaashi was too busy for him, maybe he was too busy for Akaashi.

“So, what actually happened?” Yaku asked suddenly, pointing to Bokuto’s outstretched leg.

“I fell,” Bokuto said, fist to his full mouth. “Didn’t you know?”

“Well, yeah, but, like, how far? What’d you fall off of?”

Bokuto finished his bite and flipped through the camera roll on his phone. “Well, I’ve got it actually. Wanna see? Konoha was filming and caught it.”

“No shit.” Yaku gasped, horrified and entranced.

“Yeah, I watched it enough. Here,” He handed the phone over while he stuffed more potatoes in his mouth.

Kuroo bent over, and the two of them peered at the screen, watching the accident again. Bokuto didn’t need to see it again, he had it memorized. He knew that exactly eight seconds in he paused on the bridge; half a second later it broke; the fall only took about two and a half seconds, then Akaashi was by his side by the next five. He watched their faces, Yaku turning slowly greener, and Kuroo’s eyebrows rising steadily into his messy dark hair.

“Fucking  _hell_ , dude,” Kuroo whispered when it was over.

“It’s a miracle you survived,” Yaku told him, passing his phone back.

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me…” Bokuto grumbled, tired of that particular phrase.

Yaku scowled and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You better be thankful, you ungrateful bastard. You should have died.”

“Dude, calm down.” Kuroo waved a hand. “He knows, he knows. Don’t get all snippy.”

Bokuto had bristled at Yaku, prepared to shout at him even though he knew he shouldn't. That wasn’t the way you behaved with your friends. Instead, he took a calming breath and said, “I know, I am. Really, I just… I wish it hadn’t been quite so bad. Y’know?”

Yaku frowned at him, searched his face for signs that he really was grateful for his life. He was, and Yaku found it, which satisfied him. “You weren’t going to walk away from that with a  _sprain_.”

“I know.”

“Be grateful —”

“Shut  _up,_ Morisuke,” Bokuto snapped.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah.” Kuroo cracked open two new beers and handed them each one. “Chill out, drink up, let’s not fight amongst ourselves.”

Yaku shrugged a complicated one shoulder shrug, shot Bokuto a look, then moved on from the topic like he had brushed aside an annoying fly. “Did you see that Nekoma took second in the tournament? They’re going to be one of the representatives at Nationals again this year.”

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, Yaku stood, wobbly, and retired to bed, Bokuto and Kuroo serenading him the whole way until he slammed his bedroom door with a bang. Kuroo gathered up the dinner plates and deposited them in the sink, but his head was too full of cotton to do anything else about them. When he came back to the living room, Bokuto was staring at his phone, his face pulled down into a frustrated looking pout.

“What’s up?” Kuroo asked as he dropped beside him and leaned on his shoulder.

Bokuto heaved a sigh and tucked the phone under his leg. He leaned forward, nearly dumping Kuroo off him until he caught himself, and rubbed his leg with his hands. “Nothin’,” he mumbled, drunk. Kuroo didn’t think Bokuto had ever been drunk, but he had thought he would be more excitable. He had been earlier but now he seemed melancholy, his entire body heavy.

“Come onnnn,” Kuroo drawled, his tongue heavy, “What’s wrong?”

Bokuto dropped his head to his folded arms and huffed. His voice was muffled and Kuroo had to ask him to repeat himself before he understood: “I feel like a useless boyfriend…”

“Hmmmm but you’re not.” He patted Bokuto firmly on the back. “I can attest to that. You’re a good boyfriend.”

That didn’t seem to help, because Bokuto heaved a deep and prolonged sigh. “…I’m worthless. I can’t go anywhere without Akaashi worrying… and when he gets worried he gets mad and he doesn’t sleep and he has all these weird dreams and I can’t help him with them and I’m bad at studying but he’s trying so hard to teach me and if I fail the exams he’ll be disappointed and I  …”

He went on, but his voice was so muffled by his arms as he buried himself deeper in them that Kuroo couldn’t hear him. He let him talk, though, because he was on a roll and he seemed to need to get it out. When he was done Bokuto turned his head to look at Kuroo and he was surprised to find them dark with worry and desperation.

“Hey, Tarou,” Kuroo said, leaning forward, putting an arm around him and pulling him close. “You’re a good person, I promise, and a good boyfriend. You’re thoughtful and you care a lot about people. You’re very kind and cuddly and warm and smart, no matter how much you try to hide it.” He gave Bokuto a good firm shake. “Don’t doubt yourself. You’re great. Okay?”

Bokuto leaned on him, closing his eyes. “Even if I’m broken?”

Kuroo blinked, and his heart throbbed painfully. He honestly wasn’t sure he could have survived what Bokuto had, nor bounced back the way he did. Kuroo hadn’t seen him much, but he still had that big stupid smile on his face more often than not. “You’re not broken,” he whispered softly, but with feeling.

Bokuto’s hand clamped around his thigh, so hard his knuckles turned white. Kuroo frowned and forcibly pulled his hand away, tucking their fingers together and squeezing so that Bokuto would have something to hold onto. “Koutarou, listen to me, you might be injured, but that doesn’t make you any less of a person, or of a boyfriend. You’re  _not broken_. You’ve just got a few cracks in you, but they can all be glued back together.” He wasn’t quite sure what the metaphor was, but Bokuto was looking at him with those big golden eyes, wide and innocent and pure and Kuroo didn’t know what else to say other than the truth. “You’re one of the best people I know, and nothing will ever change that.” He touched their hands to Bokuto’s chest, to indicate his soul, his heart, his  _self_. “Understand? You stop thinking about yourself like that, now. You’re healing… you’re almost back to yourself. But even if your leg was gone, that wouldn’t make you any less  _Bokuto_ : the big goofy guy that always makes people laugh, and can inspire an entire group of people to better themselves. Not a single thing in the entire goddamn world would ever make you a bad person, or a broken person. You’re whole, and wholly _you_. I’m constantly overjoyed to call you my friend.”

“Best friend…”

Kuroo grinned and shook him again, making the corners of Bokuto’s mouth twitch upwards in a smile. “ _Best fucking bros._ ”

“Bros forever,” Bokuto laughed, softly, learning to like the sound of it again. His head fell against Kuroo’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall closed, and Kuroo raised a hand to pet his hair the way he liked.

After a time of comfortable silence Kuroo said, “Come on now, let’s get you to bed.”

“Mhmm, not sleepy,” Bokuto mumbled.

“You’re already asleep.”

Voice thick with drink Bokuto breathed, “Hmmmm not.”

Kuroo chuckled and stood up, holding Bokuto in an upright position while he considered the options. He couldn’t walk, and Kuroo didn’t want him to get hurt. He couldn’t drag him to the bedroom, he was much too heavy to carry. Damn owl and his big ass muscles.

Kuroo grabbed Bokuto under the arms. “Come on, up now.” He wrestled Bokuto to his feet (his foot, really) and put the arm on Bokuto’s bad side over his shoulders and half carried, half dragged, half hopped him to his bedroom. It was a mess and Kuroo nearly had a heart attack on three separate but frightening occasions when they both almost careened to the floor because Bokuto was heavier than Kuroo’s drunken brain had thought him to be.

Dropping Bokuto in his bed Kuroo pulled the blankets up over him and said, “Go to sleep now.”

Bokuto reached up and fisted a hand in his shirt. “Don’ be mad a’ me…” his words were slurred, clearly the torturous adventure from living room to bedroom hadn’t sobered him up, only jostled his brain.

“I’m not mad at you, goofball.”

Bokuto whined, eyes half lidded and unfocused as his brain tried to drift to sleep. “Promise, ‘kaashi?” His eyes drooped closed, but his hands were tight in Kuroo’s shirt, endearing.

Kuroo blinked, and slipped his fingers around Bokuto’s wrists. He sat on the bed beside him and gently pried his fingers off before pulling them up and kissing each of his knuckles one by one. “I’m not mad…” he said softly, whispering it into the half darkness of the bedroom. “I promise.”

Bokuto relaxed, as if released from a bond, and sank into the mattress, head tossed to the side, almost immediately crashing into sleep.

Kuroo placed his hands on his chest and stood, tiptoeing back into the living room. He passed a distinctly Bokuto-shaped hand print on the wall and made a mental note to clean it off, grateful that they hadn’t fallen straight through the drywall. He wasn’t one to leave a mess, so he painstakingly picked up the empty beer cans and put the rest of the utensils in the sink to be washed in the morning. As he passed through the living room finishing his last half can of beer he heard the buzzing of a cell phone. It wasn’t his; Yaku barely used his and it had a permanent place on the kitchen table, so it must be — ah, there, under the table. Bokuto’s phone, lit up with the name  _Akaashi_ with a little owl emoji coming through with a call.

Kuroo hesitated to answer it and by the time he had steeled himself to answer the call it had clicked off. He opened the phone and took Akaashi’s number so that he could put it in his own phone and make a video call. He preferred those usually, so that he could see the face of the person he was talking to. Especially for the conversation he planned on having right now. He hadn’t actually spoken to Akaashi since their last practice matches and they had never been particularly close, though cordial enough, but he would be damned if he let this little kouhai break his best friends heart.

It took several rings for the screen to light up with Akaashi’s face. He was in what Kuroo assumed was his bedroom, plain blue walls and a small neatly made bed. He looked horrible, with dark circles under his eyes and worry lines sunk deep into his frown and eyebrows. He was confused, then concerned, then confused again when he saw who it was. “Kuroo-san, hello?”

“Hey,” Kuroo purred, letting his voice drip slow from his mouth. “How are you, Akaashi-kun?”

Akaashi’s face did not change, he held it in a carefully blank state. “Fine, how are you?”

“If I’m honest, I’m a bit drunk, and a bit angry.” Kuroo let that sink in, watching as Akaashi’s frown deepened with confusion before he said, “You’re mad at Bokuto?”

“Not that I’m aware of. How did you get my number?”

“He thinks you are.”

Akaashi fumbled, glancing at something off screen. “He’s there with you?”

“Yup, at my apartment. We had a lovely dinner. Shame you missed it.” He didn’t hide the simmering displeasure in his voice or his face and he saw Akaashi receive it and send it right back to him with a scowl.

“Is he alright?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

A scoff. “He shouldn’t be walking around so much.”

“He’s hopping,” Kuroo pointed out.

Akaashi inhaled a sharp breath, pinched his nose with his fingers and ran one across the top of his eye socket while he took another deep breath. “Do I need to come get him?”

“Of course not,” Kuroo snapped. “He’s already passed out.”

“Wait —” Akaashi looked angry. “He’s drunk?”

“No, he’s asleep.”

“Kuroo! He shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Too late,” he said, then interrupted Akaashi’s next words, “Why does he think you’re mad at him?”

“How should I know? What business is it of yours, anyway?”

“He’s my best friend, that’s what. He was _very_ upset.”

“He overthinks things.”

“Somewhere in that big fat head of his he’s clearly thinking some very sad, very poisonous thoughts and I swear to God if you’re the one that put those thoughts there I’ll be  _extremely_ pissed off.” He let his voice drop another octave, felt it actually rumble in his chest, let the words fall from his tongue like acid.

Akaashi sighed, his jaw working as he ground his teeth. He really was worried about Bokuto, Kuroo thought as he watched Akaashi work through his answer. “He’s clearly depressed,” Akaashi said finally, sounding stressed. “Who wouldn’t be after three months stuck in bed? He’s working through a lot of things, but that’s  _just it_. He’s working  _through_ them. I’m trying to help him and not encourage these thoughts. You can’t just dismiss him though, or he gets worse. It’s a very thin line I must walk to keep him happy.”

Kuroo growled, “You’re not doing a very good job.”

“Oh fuck you, Kuroo,” Akaashi snarled back, suddenly vicious, his calm demeanor breaking for the first time Kuroo had ever seen since meeting him. It made Kuroo smile. “You don’t know what we’ve been through, what he’s been through, I was  _there,_ I was  _with him,_ I waited for the phone call that he was going to  _die_. I’ve tried to help him with everything I possibly can. He doesn’t like for me to see when he’s hurting, but I see it. Don’t you try to tell me how to be there for him because where the hell were  _you_ when he was hurting?” He said it all too quickly, without allowing himself to think about it, the color rising in his cheeks as the emotions rose to the surface.

Kuroo glared at the screen, his lip curling in a sneer. “Ah, I see. So you do care.”

“ _Of course I do._ But, like I said, it’s none of your business what we do in our relationship.” He looked away, glaring at the wall, composing himself, before looking back and snapping, “I was just searching for him, trying to make sure he was okay since he’s ignored me all day. Now that I know he’s  _fine_ I’m going to let you go now.” His words were polite but his tone was anything but. “Thank you for informing me. Please don’t call me again.”

Kuroo tapped the red hang up button and let himself sink into the couch, sighing. He was relieved, really, to have gotten that sort of rise from him. That meant he really did care, at least. He might not be mad at Bokuto, but he sure was mad at Kuroo. Oh well, that could be fixed eventually. He didn’t really care. He stumbled to his feet, finished his beer and chucked it in the bin before padding back to his bedroom. He made sure to lay the crutches Bokuto needed to hobble around on the floor beside the bed so he wouldn’t be stranded in the morning.

“Move over,” Kuroo hissed as he crawled into bed. “You’re in the middle of the — ah — stop that — ugh — fine.” He flopped onto his back, and Bokuto snuggled up to him, laid his head on his shoulder and flung an arm over his chest. Kuroo stuffed the blanket under Bokuto’s head so he wouldn’t drool on his arm then closed his eyes, yawning, and letting slumber take him.


	24. Revelation

In the morning, Bokuto came to awareness with a sharp and sudden jerk. His head throbbed, his face was sticky, and his bladder felt like it was going to burst. He sat up, groaning as his head spun and the walls went sideways. “Kuroo…” He mumbled, then saw his crutches on the floor and leaned over to get them.

He hobbled to the bathroom and the intense relief it provided, then when he was through he washed his face of dried saliva and thought he probably shouldn’t sleep with his mouth open anymore. He washed his mouth, unable to get the stale taste of day old beer out of his sinuses, wishing he had a toothbrush.

Back in the bedroom he collapsed on the bed and rolled over on top of Kuroo’s stomach, spreading himself wide. “Kuroooooo,” he drawled, stuffing his face into the bed sheets.

Kuroo groaned under him, pushing against him, “You’re heavy … get off me.”

“I gotta go home,” Bokuto mumbled, yawning.

“Go then, I’m not stopping you.”

He sat quiet a moment, frowning, feeling a bit ashamed. “I can’t make it down the stairs.”

Kuroo grumbled, “Get off me, then. I’ll help.” He let out a huge yawn, not bothering to hide it.

“Oh, would you make breakfast first?”

“Fine.”

 As they ate Kuroo passed out headache medicine to them both and drank several large glasses of water. “Mhm, I don’t feel as bad as I thought I would.”

Bokuto nodded, sucking down the omelette Kuroo had made him. “Me neither. I might be able to make it home without too much trouble.”

Yaku trudged in, barely picking up his feet as he shuffled to the fridge. Kuroo looked up, smirking. “You gonna be alright?”

Yaku ignored him, took Kuroo’s rice and egg bowl and a pitcher of water, and vanished back to his room, the closing of the door a soft click rather than a bang.

“Maybe he’ll drink the water before bed next time,” Bokuto suggested.

“Maybe.” Kuroo sighed, leaning on his hand. “Look, I probably shouldn’t say this…”

Bokuto’s insides squirmed. He couldn’t remember going to bed last night and worried about what he might have said. Hopefully nothing embarrassing.

“I think you should talk to your boyfriend,” Kuroo told him, looking bored and yawning again.

Bokuto blinked, now he was really confused and wondered what had happened last night. They didn’t sleep together or anything did they? Surely not. He thought he might have remembered  _that_. “Okay?”

“No I mean, just in general,” Kuroo said, reaching and taking some of Bokuto’s food. “Communication is key to any relationship.”

Bokuto huffed. “Who are you to give me relationship advice? You’re not in one.”

“Tsukki and I are talking, sort of a long distance thing.”

“No… really?” Bokuto gasped. “How is he?”

Kuroo waved a hand. “Don’t change the subject. We’re not actually dating, yet. I’m waiting until he’s graduated high school. I’m telling you, Bokuto, talk to Akaashi. Don’t just assume things you don’t know for sure.”

Bokuto frowned, then pushed his plate away. “Alright, fine. It’s too early to have such serious conversations.”

“It’s eleven in the morning.”

“But we’ve only been awake like thirty minutes.” He pushed away from the table. “I really need to get home. My tutor is coming today.”

Kuroo helped him get his shoe/cast back on and he stood in front of Bokuto as he maneuvered the stairs. It took way too long for them to get to the bottom, but when they did Kuroo fell into step beside Bokuto and whistled as they walked to the train station.

“It’s a good thing you don’t live too far from the train station. I hate getting in taxis with these things.”

“You’ll be done with them soon, right?”

“Next month, supposedly,” Bokuto said hopefully. “Sooner, probably. I’ve got to go back to the hospital for x-rays before I can walk without the boot though.”

“Gotta make sure the bones don’t have holes?”

Bokuto laughed. “Something like that, I guess.”

“Well,” Kuroo said as they got close to the ticket kiosk, “take care of yourself. Call me sometime. Good luck on your test and we’ll play volleyball again together once you make the team.” He winked, and patted Bokuto’s shoulder then turned and loped off, hands in his pockets.

 

* * *

 

At home, Bokuto showered and washed the beer from his breath with a toothbrush and powerful mouthwash, and then spent a few agonizing hours with his tutor getting reamed for missing the most basic of maths questions because of stupid mistakes. He knew he wouldn’t have gotten them wrong had he slept better and not had a hangover headache. It wasn’t bad, just annoying, and he was grateful when he was finally left alone. He collapsed on his bed, thinking he might go to sleep that very moment.

He checked his phone and found that Akaashi had texted him while he had been studying.  _are you at home yet?_

_yea, was studying. why._ Had he told Akaashi he’d gone to Kuroo’s? He didn’t think so.

_can i come over?_

Bokuto’s immediate reaction was _fuck yes absolutely_. His other was… frustration and confusion. If Akaashi was mad at him and had been avoiding him, why was he trying to come over now? If Akaashi was coming over to just break up with him… Bokuto would rather just pretend that they could be together longer.

_sure_ , he said instead. As the minutes trickled by and Bokuto stared out his window, his heart hammered harder and faster as he waited, crawling up into his throat. His stomach turned upside down and tried to punch out of his ribs. When Akaashi appeared at the top of the street Bokuto turned away, too afraid to watch him come closer. He steadied his breath as best he could, despite the shaking, and when Akaashi opened the door to his room, everything fell out of him in a huff.

Akaashi smiled at him from the door and closed it softly behind him. “Bokuto, how are you?” He came over and sat in his usual place, tucked close between the wall and Bokuto’s body.

Bokuto couldn’t look him in the face, and spent a few moments folding a new bird from the receipt for his train ticket.

“What’s wrong?” Akaashi asked, touching his knee.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?”

Akaashi froze, his face switching into a frustrated worry in a moment. His eyes showed the emotion that his face wouldn’t convey. Bokuto saw the turmoil there and worry bubbled up around his heart.

He pulled his hand away and tucked them together in his lap, avoiding Bokuto’s gaze. “I… guess I should apologize for being so distant. I didn’t mean to make you think I was mad at you. I’m not. I never was.”

Bokuto frowned, remembering the frustration on his face at the tournament, the coldness of his texts, the distance between them. “Are you sure?”

Akaashi sighed. “Yes of course I’m sure. I was just really, truly, very busy. There was a lot on my plate all of a sudden and I needed to … take care of some things.”

Bokuto fiddled with his little bird, flapping its wings in a disheartened way. It was too fragile to be doing it, he worried it might tear, but he still did it. Akaashi looked at him from under his long delicate eyelashes and said in a whisper, “I really was busy. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“... What… were you doing? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Of course not.” Akaashi glanced away, turning his face from Bokuto, his lips pulling down and his hands tightening together. He swallowed visibly, and Bokuto knew he didn’t want to tell him… but Bokuto had to know. He had to understand.

“Please, ‘kaashi? Talk to me. I just… I’m worried about you.”

Akaashi heaved a sigh. “I’m worried about me, too.”

Bokuto sat silent, mouth dry, chilled and on fire with fear and worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t…” He rubbed his hands across his face, “It’s too hard to talk about.”

“Only because you’ve never done it,” Bokuto suggested. His hand reached out and trailed over Akaashi’s shoulder, down to the wing of his shoulder blade, cupping it gently with his fingers the way that Akaashi liked, hoping to calm him. Akaashi leaned into his hand, closing his eyes tight, like he was in pain.

“My mother…” Akaashi said with a breathy whisper, “she’s not well.”

Bokuto blinked, shocked. Not what he had been expecting. “Is she sick?” His hand pushed a bit more, coaxing and molding his emotions out of him.

“No. Well, yes.” He leaned over, eyes fixed on the black television. Bokuto rubbed his back, tracing the bumps of his spine, the arch of his ribcage. After a while of silence Akaashi told him. Everything. In long, rambling sentences. Told him of the death of his father when he was small, how his mother couldn’t cope, how she drank more than she should and would hide from him. How he cooked most of her meals and pulled her from bed more often than not so she wouldn’t be late to work. How, on her darkest days, she wouldn’t wake from sleep, no matter what he tried, too lost in a world of happy dreams to come back to reality. He didn’t blame her, of course, she had lost her soulmate, she was living with a broken heart that would never mend.

She had come to the tournament the past weekend, dragged herself there on one of her better days. That was why Akaashi had been overly stressed, he said, she doesn’t do well in crowds, she can’t regulate her ups and downs and it exhausted her. Their losing the match hadn’t helped, it didn’t give her the boost of joy she’d needed to bounce back from all the excitement.

He hadn’t wanted to kiss Bokuto in case she had seen. “She always talks about my being happy someday, finding a wife and knowing the joy of children,” Akaashi’s voice was full of too much emotion. Thick in his throat and unsure of himself. “She doesn’t know about...us. She thinks we’re friends. I don’t think she could stand it if…” He stopped, biting the inside of his lip hard, so hard.

Bokuto leaned over and touched his cheek, pulling him from his thoughts to look at him. “It’s alright,” he told him.

Akaashi’s eyes were full of everything and nothing, he had too much on his mind and it clouded his face with so much pain. “I don’t want to disappoint her… She’s already lost so much.”

Bokuto stared at him, hurting for him, put an arm around him and pulled him into his best bear hug. Akaashi leaned against him, turning his face to bury it in Bokuto’s shoulder. His arms came around Bokuto’s chest and squeezed him tight, holding himself up as he shivered.

Bokuto kissed his head, letting Akaashi breathe through his thoughts, soothing him when he began to panic. “Keiji,” he whispered into Akaashi’s hair, “I didn’t know you were working so hard. You’re a great son, I can only imagine how happy she is with you as her child.”

Akaashi shrugged, silent. “I’m ashamed that… I’m too scared to tell her. About how happy I am.”

Bokuto squeezed him tight, wanting to absorb his worries, to make him all better like magic. “I’m sure she’ll love you no matter what.”

“I can’t know that…”

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto told him, honest. “I want to … take your fears away. I wish you didn’t you feel this way.” His tongue felt heavy, he was being so  _stupid_ but he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good with words the way Akaashi was. He wasn’t smart enough to know what to tell people to make them feel better.

“You can’t fix my problems. But you make me happy,” Akaashi told him. “That’s all I need from you.” He pulled away, eying him. “I’m sorry I upset you last week. I’m sorry I yelled at you. Please forgive me.”

Bokuto touched his cheek and pulled him close for a kiss. “I think I’ve already forgiven you for anything you could ever do. That’s what love is, yeah?”

Akaashi sniffed, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Is your mother better now?”

He breathed out a long sigh. “She went to work this morning. I think she’ll be… alright for a time. Look, I’d like to do something fun now. I need a distraction, it’s been a long week.”

Bokuto laughed a little. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, go get ice cream or cheesecake?”

Bokuto lit up, beaming. “Really?”

“Sure, why not? We both need it. Get dressed, I’m not walking around with you in your pajamas.”

Bokuto got dressed. He kept an eye on Akaashi as the evening wore on, taking note of how sad he still seemed, and tried to cheer him up, because that’s all he could do. He couldn’t fix things, couldn’t really help anything at all. So he did the best thing he could, which was to make Akaashi smile.


	25. Camp

It was day three of Golden Week training camp and Akaashi was exhausted. Fukurodani had done more punishments than usual, not as many as he’d thought, but between the heat, the games, the social interactions, and lack of good sleep he was barely keeping his eyes open.

Now he sat in a corner of the gym cooling down, half asleep with his head on his knees, listening to the last game of the evening as Shinzen and Karasuno competed. Hinata was always so loud… always so hyper, too much for him to handle right now.

“Excuse me?” came a quiet voice from above him.

Akaashi looked up, saw it was Kozume Kenma who peered down at him with furrowed brows. “Oh, hello.”

“Why are you still here?” Kenma asked, glancing around, his gaze not quite meeting Akaashi’s.

Akaashi looked away too, watching the game going on. “Just mustering up the energy to go to bed.” Kenma laughed in a loud, surprised way, like it just jumped out of him without his permission. It made Akaashi smile too, and he pushed himself up. “Aren’t you usually gone by now, as well?”

Kenma scowled, glaring across the gym to where a few of his team were practicing serves. “Taketora took my game and said I can only have it back if I stay for an extra half hour. It’s disgusting.”

It was Akaashi’s turn to laugh. “How manipulative of him.”

“I think Kuroo told him to do it.”

Akaashi hummed in response, his own thoughts of the previous captain of cats muddled with annoyance still. He was embarrassed of the way he had acted on the phone call with Kuroo, the way he lost his temper. Kuroo and his sneering face just pissed him off, and the way he had accused him of hurting Bokuto had pushed him over the edge. He’d thought about calling to apologize… but then thought Kuroo should apologize to  _him_ and just became angry all over again.

“Nekoma played well,” he said instead, to distract himself.

Kenma nodded. “Yes, they did.”

The game on the court ended, Karasuno winning, and Shinzen began their jog up the hill. Akaashi stretched his arm, groaning some at the pull of the muscle. Kenma asked as if he’d been struggling to come up with the words, “How is Bokuto?”

A smile touched his lips at the mention of Bokuto. “He’s finally walking. He’s got this cane for balance...but he likes to use it to herd me around the house.”

Kenma's lips turned up at the corners in his version of a smile, nodding along slowly. “Sounds like him. Kuroo says he wants to try and go to Tokyo to join the volleyball team.”

“That’s his plan, I suppose.”

“Do you think he can do it?”

Akaashi paused, looking back at the smaller boy to find those sharp eyes fixed on him with a shrewd curiosity. He wasn’t asking if Akaashi  _hoped_ Bokuto would be able to get back to it. He was asking if his muscles would allow it, if they would simply die out, or if he would fly too close to the sun and destroy himself. Akaashi looked away, uncomfortable because he didn’t think Kenma would like his spitfire answer,  _yes of course just give it time_.

“He’s trying very hard,” Akaashi said slowly, working through the thoughts as he spoke them. “He has the ability to, I believe. If he doesn’t push too hard, too fast, if he lets his body have the time it needs… then, yes. I believe he can. I… I don’t know that he’ll ever be as great. That’s the truth. But I believe he will try to rise to greatness again. Time will tell if he will be able to achieve it.”

Kenma stared at him, then nodded, satisfied, then glanced at the large digital clock glaring with it’s fluorescent numbers. “Tell him I wish the best for him. He really was a good player. See you tomorrow.” And he walked away, going to Yamamoto and silently holding out his hand for this months handheld console of choice.

 

* * *

 

That night, as Akaashi settled himself to in his bed, playing the mindless match three game that he loathed but accepted as one of the easiest ways to get his mind to shut down, the screen lit up with a phone call.

Another video call. But instead of a faceless gray blob, it was the picture of Bokuto getting his hair preened by the owl.

Akaashi buried himself deeper, pulled his blankets over his head for semi-privacy, and clicked the call through. Bokuto’s face, illuminated by the yellow lamp beside his bed, came into view, hair wet from his bath and smiling. Akaashi smiled back, putting his headphones in, and whispered, “It’s very late.”

“And you still answered. How are you?”

“Very tired,” Akaashi said honestly. He’d learned that if Bokuto caught him in even the smallest fib, the smallest  _i’m fine_ or  _no i’m not that tired,_ he would latch onto it and badger Akaashi until he was browbeaten into honesty. It was easier to just tell him the truth. “It’s hot here, and everyone is working hard, and I’m honestly ready to go home.”

Bokuto nodded, sympathetic smile in place of a warm hug. “Two more days.”

“Yes… but it’s fun,” he said, and Bokuto grinned, so Akaashi began telling him about their games, explaining in more detail when he could about the other teams, about Fukurodani’s new setup, hinting at how Karasuno had changed and how terrifying they were, even more so than last year. They talked for too long, Akaashi mumbling in the darkness and Bokuto too loud in his ears, rambling about everything and nothing, about conversations with Konoha and word of his adventures, about the most recent episode of their show they watched together, about the color of the sky outside his window. If the moon was made of cheese then what was the sun made of? Hypotheticals about what would happen if volleyballs were square — ridiculous things, Bokuto things, and, quite suddenly, Akaashi found himself being awoken by sunlight as Wataru opened the curtains. He blinked around, rubbed his eyes, sitting up and pulling the headphones from his ears, stinging because he had been laying on one all night.

There was a text from Bokuto  _you fell asleep but i thought i’d tell you what sorts of dreams to have for a while. i hope you slept well. have fun. tell tsukki and hinata that i want to have another three on three with them someday_

Akaashi smiled at his phone, marveled at how, once again, Bokuto had managed to make his bad nights into memorable ones.


	26. Surprise pt. II

Bokuto waited at the window, watching, excited. Akaashi was on his way over and Bokuto wanted to surprise him with his new ability. When he did show up, walking up the driveway, hand on the door, Bokuto pulled it open, standing in the doorframe and beaming. “‘kaashi!”

Akaashi blinked, his mouth opened then closed. He laughed. “Bo, look at you. All on your own.”

Bokuto was standing in the doorway, arms wide, standing on his own two feet. More than half of his weight was safely on his good leg, but the bad one was still supporting him. No walker, no crutches, no cane. Nothing but his body. Five, almost six months, and he was back on his feet. It was only the beginning.

Akaashi beamed at him, and held his arms out as Bokuto stepped  _on his own_ towards him. They embraced in the doorway, Bokuto burying his face in Akaashi’s hair and breathing in his clean, soft scent.

“Look at you,” Akaashi said into his neck, kissing his skin. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit,” Bokuto said, pulling away, nudging Akaashi backwards. “Doesn’t matter. We’re going out.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you out,” Bokuto declared, grinning.

“Are you sure you can —”

Bokuto touched a finger to Akaashi’s lips. “Yes, I’m fine. Now come on, before it gets too crowded.”

“Before what gets —”

Bokuto cut him off, “No! Now it’s your turn to wait for a surprise.”

Akaashi laughed, and twined their hands together. “Nothing could ever top my surprise to you.”

“Ugh, no, nothing can. But I’m going to try.” He bumped their hips together, then almost fell over, tripping over his own feet that were so unused to walking.

Akaashi caught his arm. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m fine,” patting Akaashi’s hand, “Now hurry up slowpoke.”

 Bokuto took him first to the park, where they ate a late breakfast of ice cream together and watched small children playing. Then he found them a taxi and they took it to the city, roaming around the streets and shops and eating everything that looked interesting. Bokuto ended up with cream on his nose and a banana in his hair and Akaashi looked a mess with chocolate oozing off his ear to his throat and Bokuto wanted to lick it off.

The corner of the street was no place to do that, though.

They had fun together, laughing, joking, Bokuto only having to stop to rest every hour or so, with neither of them ever saying a word about it. It was almost like old times when they would spend their weekends together, before they loved each other… or at least before the other knew it.

Bokuto kept an eye on where they were, steadily moving toward his final destination.

Akaashi wasn’t paying attention as they approached the building, texting his mother (he now told Bokuto when he was talking to her, about how she was feeling, her ups and downs, and it seemed to make him feel better to finally have someone he trusted enough to share it with) that he wouldn’t be home tonight, since it was already getting late and he was still out in the city.

When he looked up though, his eyes widened and he let out a childlike laugh of glee. “An arcade?”

Bokuto beamed down at him, liking the way Akaashi’s eyes literally sparkled with the lights of the machines. “You like games.”

“I  _love_ games.” Akaashi laughed again, breathless and almost like a giggle. “Not as much as Kozume-san.”

“No, no one does, that’s impossible, but still!” Bokuto took his wrist, pulling him inside the doors.

Akaashi was grinning, but he moved straight past the claw games, UFO catchers, and other various prize machines and went straight for the escalator. “We can’t start here, if we win I don’t want to carry around the thing all night.”

“You think you’d win?”

“Yeah, I do. And you better win me something, too.” He laughed, turning and standing close to Bokuto on the tiny moving stairs.

Bokuto grinned, nodded like a man determined. “Oh, I will. Don’t you worry.”

“But first,” Akaashi told him as they rode all the way up to the fifth or sixth floor where, spread out before them like a garden, the multiplayer games beckoned to them, “I’m going to kick your ass.”

Bokuto shrieked at him, punching his arm, gleeful, “You can try!”

They spent too long at each game, mashing buttons and swinging imaginary swords, throwing pretend punches and, every now and then, Bokuto reaching over and shoving Akaashi off his console because Bokuto was losing and had no qualms against cheating when he had only won one out of every ten games they played. When they had played every game at least three times, Bokuto was sweating and out of breath, happily annoyed that he had had his ass so thoroughly handed to him, he hooked an arm around Akaashi’s neck and pulled him close, kissing his sweaty forehead and declaring, “Fine, fine. You win. You’re the better fighter. Happy?”

Akaashi laughed, hand on Bokuto’s chest, looking up at him. “Yes, I am.”

They smiled at each other like lovestruck idiots (which they were) and Akaashi finally allowed them to go to the floor below where the vintage arcade cabinets were. Bokuto was good at these! He’d win for sure.

Twenty minutes later Bokuto was grumpy and watching Akaashi do a speedrun of Super Mario without losing a single man. “Are you fucking serious?” Bokuto asked, pleased that his boyfriend was so good at games, but also  _not_ because he thought this would be where he could show off. He’d lost all three lives in the fourth level and had stepped aside, fully expecting Akaashi to do just as poorly as he had. “Let me go again after you, I can do better.”

Akaashi glanced back at him, eyes flicking back to the screen to jump over a green turtle. “Mhm — you weren’t so good at this one. Something else, maybe? Don’t want you wasting your money.” He said it with a grin, mocking Bokuto.

Bokuto huffed and leaned on the game, watching out of the corner of his eye and pretending not to care… but tensing up the first time Akaashi lost a life during one of the boss battles against Bowser. Then leaning beside Akaashi and cheering him on for the second round, giving unhelpful tips like: “Go, go, go! No, no, go back, JUMP!” And Akaashi ignoring him, beating Bowser, and saving the Princess.

Akaashi straightened and smirked at him.

“Show off,” Bokuto quipped, grinning.

Akaashi was pleased, and gave Bokuto a kiss to make him smile before they moved on to other games. Akaashi was good at many of them, and after a while Bokuto didn’t even want to play them himself, just watch and cheer him on in awe, giddy when he beat the game and rewarding him with kisses.

They took photo booth pictures. Several strips of them, each more ridiculous than the last. Making silly faces, faces so serious they were nearly stupid, a snapshot of Bokuto licking Akaashi’s ear and Akaashi shrieking and slapping him, then smothering his face with his hands. An entire strip of them kissing, each panel having them closer than the last.

They moved down another floor and Akaashi had to forcibly steer Bokuto away from the horse racing simulator or else he would lose all his money. “Gambling is fruitless,” Akaashi told him.

Bokuto looked over his shoulder at the lights begging him to come back. “But it’s fun.”

“Let’s go win real prizes, okay? You promised to win me something.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bokuto remembered, then perked up, determined, and they spent a few minutes touring the giant floor below filled with the elusive claw machines stuffed with loot. Bokuto’s foot was  _killing_ him by now, it was swollen and throbbing in his shoe, he wanted to sit down, needed to rest, but he was having too much fun. He was very careful as he walked, not wanting to be limping too hard and worry Akaashi into making them leave early.

Akaashi stopped, wide and starry eyed, staring longingly at a machine. Bokuto turned to look and had to laugh. He  _had to._

The machine was stuffed with owl plushies. Big ones, small ones, oddly colored ones, realistic ones, ones with big eyes or big claws or outstretched wings. “Want one?” Bokuto grinned at him. Akaashi could only nod and wander over, peering through the glass. “Which do you want?”

Akaashi hummed, considering carefully, like it was the answer to a difficult exam question. Bokuto pointed to one close to the exit chute. “What about that one? It looks like you.”

Akaashi shook his head. “No I don’t want one that looks like me — oh! That one!” He pointed, finger pressed against against the glass and spent a few moments directing Bokuto’s gaze until he saw it. A stuffed great horned owl, barely visible under a pile of pink and blue cartoon owls. Of course.

“I want it because it looks like  _you_ ,” Akaashi told him, smirking. “Maybe I’ll sleep with it instead of you.”

Bokuto jabbed a knuckle into his ribs to make him giggle and bounce away. He’d never seen Akaashi this childlike, was glad he’d made the decision to come here. He wanted to memorize this side of Akaashi, make it come to the surface more often. “Alright, alright,” Bokuto told him, rolling up his sleeves and putting his money in. “That’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

Akaashi moved to the side of the machine, raised himself on his toes to see the angle better, and helped Bokuto maneuver the claw just right. The machine beeped and dropped the claw, catching three of the tiny owls in its grasp, including the one they were after. They held their breath as it rose, carrying the owls a mere centimeter before falling, burying the horned owl under its fellows.

“Dammit,” Bokuto swore, then saw Akaashi’s face fall and his shoulders slump. He quickly said, “Hey, hey, hey, Keiji, _baby_ , don’t worry!” He grinned, slapped the game. “I promised you anything you wanted, didn’t I? I’ll get it.” He winked to prove how confident he was, even though he was internally freaking out cause he’d only ever won one of these in his entire life. Fuck it, be confident, that’s how you win things.  

Plus, Akaashi was smiling at him, gentle and unsure. “Really?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto put more money in, this time allowing for several credits to pile up. He pulled Akaashi around to his side. “I just need your moral support.” And Akaashi pushed close, their shoulders touching, both of them leaning over the controls, eyes locked on their prize. Bokuto spent several games simply uncovering the little owl, exposing it bit by bit until it was on top of the pile. It took two games to get it over close enough to the chute that it wouldn’t fall immediately out of the claw’s grasp. Finally, Akaashi and several other people watched his final credit game with bated breath.

The claw went down, caged in the small bird, lifted, carrying it… slipping… slipping from the grasp… and fell. A momentary groan from the onlookers, then a wild and rambunctious cheer as the owl plunked against the edge of the chute and toppled in. Bokuto cheered himself, exultant, heart hammering with relief, and snagged it from the prize box. “HA!” He yelled with glee. “I  _told you_!” He presented the prize with a flourish to Akaashi, a small bow, and a huge grin.

Akaashi took it in both hands, smiling down at it like it was a real baby owl cupped in his palms. His cheeks flushed from the heat of the room and nerves, and said a soft, “Thank you…” with more emotion than Bokuto expected.

Bokuto beamed, then folded his arms and looked at the game. “Although, that does cause a problem.”

“W-what?”

Bokuto quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t like being alone. He won’t either.”

Akaashi pursed his lips, trying not to smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with it. “You have to find him a mate then.”

Bokuto knocked a knuckle into the glass. “Oh, I already know which one. I’m going to get the grumpy one that looks like you.”

“I’m not grumpy!”

Grinning, inserting yet  _more_ money into the game, Bokuto toiled with his new prize. More onlookers came, Akaashi held his breath more often than not, Bokuto started to sweat with nerves… he might not get it. It wasn’t as hard as the first one, but it was just in the  _wrong_ place. He’d spent too much money on this game already, but he didn’t care.

“Kou…” Akaashi whispered close to his ear, “You can do it.”

Bokuto’s insides tingled a the use of the pet name, so intimate, the breath of Akaashi’s lips against his ear. He hunched low over the controls, biting his tongue, hands shaking. Fuck, now he  _had_ to get the thing.

It took four more games. Four. With each one Akaashi inched ever closer, touching a different part of his body with trailing fingertips. On the last one, the owl clutched in the claw, Bokuto grabbed the one he’d already won from Akaashi and shoved it against the glass. “COME ON JOIN YOUR MATE!” he screamed at the one inside the box, “FREE YOURSELF.”

People laughed at his antics, then cheered like he’d just won the lottery when it worked and the owl fell into the prize slot. Akaashi was there, pulling it out, practically jumping up and down in his excitement. “You did it!”

Bokuto touched the little owls faces together, beaming. “Told you.”

“I never doubted you.”

Bokuto turned to a girl that had been encouraging them since the beginning. “Excuse me, could you take our victory picture?”

“Sure!” The girl was all too happy, and took Bokuto’s phone to snap the picture.

It became one of Bokuto’s favorites. In it, he stood behind Akaashi’s shoulder, a tiny owl in each hand, pushing them against Akaashi’s cheeks as if they were kissing them. Akaashi was laughing so hard his eyes had closed and a tiny tear was visible at the corner of one eye. Bokuto touched his cheek to Akaashi’s hair then took his phone back, thanking the girl, and they departed.

As they waited for a taxi Akaashi held his horned owl in his hands, petting it’s head, smiling fondly.

“Did you have fun?” Bokuto asked, holding his own, moving it closer and letting them pretend kiss again.

Akaashi laughed. “Oh, yes. This was amazing. Thank you. I think it’s was a perfect tie with the owl date.”

Bokuto grinned. “Date?”

“Well, yeah, what else would they be?”

“Mhm…” Bokuto tried but couldn’t think of a better word. “Date, then.” He leaned over grazed his nose over Akaashi’s cheek, just like the owls. “Let’s have more.”

Akaashi’s smile could light the darkest of places with how bright it was, transforming his entire face into one that Bokuto vowed never to forget. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Back at Bokuto’s house, they ate dinner together, Bokuto pretending to feed his owl until Akaashi told him to stop, looking worried that he’d stain the little plush feathers. They retreated to his bedroom, and spent several minutes devising a small next of socks for the owls to nest in on Bokuto’s bookshelf.

Akaashi sat on the bed, hugging his knees and staring at them, the smile never leaving his face. Bokuto dropped beside him, finally relieving the pressure of standing with a groan of pain and leaning into his shoulder. “Are you alright?” Akaashi asked suddenly, “Oh, god, I’m sorry. I forgot — I —”

“Calm down,” Bokuto soothed him, turning his head to rub his cheek on Akaashi’s shoulder. “I’m glad you forgot. I wanted you to. I wanted everything to be… like it used to be.”

Akaashi looked worried, his face pinched. “But… what if you’ve injured yourself?”

“It’s nothing some ice and rest won’t fix.” Bokuto looked up, put a hand on Akaashi’s head and pulled him down so he could kiss the furrows between his brows. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Akaashi sighed. “I just worry.”

“Shut up,” Bokuto told him fondly, smiling. “I promise I’m alright.”

“... If you say so.”

“I do.” Bokuto shifted so he could move closer, kissing him, their lips still tingling from the spicy peppers they’d eaten for dinner. Akaashi sighed into his mouth, bringing his arms up around Bokuto’s shoulders and pulling him closer as he leaned back into the mattress.

“I love you,” Akaashi whispered against his lips, his fingers trailing down, finding the hem of Bokuto’s shirt and disappearing under it. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me…”

Bokuto busied himself with Akaashi’s throat, kissing him just under the ear in the way that made Akaashi shiver and pull him closer. “Now…” he murmured, “What can I say that can top that? But… I feel the same, y’know?” He sat up enough to look at Akaashi, letting his lips brush Akaashi’s again like a painter. “I love you, too. More than anything. You’re the reason I’m here… I can say I’m truly happy when we’re together.”

Akaashi’s answering smile was accompanied by his hands pulling Bokuto down, encouraging him to let his weight lay fully on him. Bokuto compiled, if only because it allowed him to be closer, their shirts riding up, skin on skin, warmth emanating. He tangled their legs together, their toes touching through their socks and Bokuto was delighted at the sensation of this, the fact that he could move and feel his toes at all. His arms held Akaashi in them, hands burying themselves in his soft hair. They tugged gently, turning his head so Bokuto could kiss Akaashi’s neck, moving as Akaashi’s soft sighs encouraged him, grazing with his teeth and when that was received well, biting down harder, sucking a mark there like an animal, feeling a bit ashamed and a lot aroused at the sight of the pink flush rising up Akaashi’s throat.

“ _Ah, Koutarou_ ,” Akaashi mumbled, panting, shoving at Bokuto’s shirt. “Please.”

For what he was asking, Bokuto didn’t know, and thought to ask, but when Akaashi caught Bokuto’s lip between his teeth and tugged spots of fire burst in Bokuto’s chest, his belly, lower. He shifted so he could yank his shirt away, carefully moving his palm up Akaashi’s clothed belly, aware that he needed to be careful, that Akaashi was fragile…

Akaashi sat up so he could tug his own shirt off, tossing it aside, wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s neck and fisting a hand in his hair, kissing him open mouthed and deep, groaning with the desire it sparked in both of them.

“Fuck,” Bokuto moaned, having his breath sucked out by Akaashi’s talented mouth, “‘kaashi.” Tongue across his lip, tracing his teeth, curling around his own until he had to pull away and moan aloud. “Keiji, god, your mouth.”

Akaashi pulled him back, unrelenting in his attack, determined, nails dragging along Bokuto’s spine, leaving heat in their wake until Bokuto was forced to take Akaashi’s face and pull him away.

“What’s wrong?” Akaashi asked, frowning, panting, pale skin tinted a rosy pink as their body temperatures rose.

Bokuto blurted, “You’re beautiful,” because it was true. Akaashi’s eyes were dark and burning, pupils blown wide with arousal, his skin flushed, his fingers fine boned and dipping into Bokuto’s pants at his hips, pulling him closer.

His answering smile transformed his face in an entirely different way than the arcade had. This wasn’t  _warm and happy_ Akaashi...this was vixen Akaashi, the one that knew he was lovely and knew that Bokuto worshiped him and knew that he was in control. He leaned close and pressed his mouth to Bokuto’s jaw, moving slowly towards his ear and dragging his tongue up the lobe so that Bokuto shivered.

“Fuck,” Bokuto whispered, his head spinning.

“Mhm.”

Bokuto pushed him back, kissed him hard while Akaashi wiggled under him, pressing his hips up, and shoved both hands up Bokuto’s spine so hard Bokuto could count the knuckles of his hands. Bokuto swore under his breath, gathering Akaashi in his arms and rolling them so that Akaashi was over him, then swearing with more feeling as they were crushed against the wall and had to shift back, laughing breathlessly.

Akaashi allowed Bokuto’s hands to explore, to roam across his chest, his stomach, dip into the spaces in his spine and his ribs while he writhed, moaning in a gentle, breathless way that Bokuto liked.

“Come down here,” Bokuto whispered, pulling at Akaashi’s ribs. “Let me hold you.”

Akaashi smiled and shifted down, laying himself down comfortably, sinking into Bokuto’s embrace with a sigh and melting into his kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another favorite chapter of mine. I just love making our boys happy, okay??? They're so damn cute.


	27. Moving On

The teacher was talking, telling them something important. Akaashi couldn’t focus, though, because his eyes kept drooping closed. It wasn’t that he was tired — he’d slept well enough, it was that his mind was simply burned out. He’d spent all weekend helping Bokuto study for the Tokyo entrance exam. It was today, and last night he’d had to not only help Bokuto study, but also soothe him when he’d began to panic about the test.

“I can’t take tests!” He’d protested. “I’ve never been good at tests.”

“You take tests just fine, Bokuto,” Akaashi told him, patting his hand. “You just psych yourself out. You know this stuff, you’ve gotten nearly all the answers right.”

“I just know I’ll forget them when I’m sitting there staring at the paper.”

Akaashi sighed, it was very late, past midnight, he was exhausted. “All you have to do is  _think_. Just use your head.”

Bokuto dropped his head to the table and groaned. “But I’m an idiot.”

Akaashi tapped his knuckle on Bokuto’s head. “Stop that. You’re  _not_. And when you pass your test we’ll celebrate.”

Bokuto looked up at him, cheek pressed against his paper. “Really?”

“Yeah. Your doctor appointment is later this week, too. Maybe you’ll be cleared for exercise.”

Bokuto smiled a little, the thought that he could start jogging was one thing he literally dreamed of. “Can we go for a run together? Like old times?”

Akaashi smiled. “Sure, as long as you don’t over do it like at the arcade. You were bedridden for days.”

“But it was  _fine_. I just needed some ice and rest.”

Akaashi shook his head. “You frustrate me. Here, do this quiz I made you. When you get them all right, we have to go to bed.”

Back in class, Akaashi opened his bag to pull out a workbook and instead found a tiny origami owl. He pulled it out and stared at it, confused for a moment, his mind unable to really comprehend how it got there. Bokuto had obviously put it there, but when? How long had the little bird been in his bag?

It didn’t matter, really. It was colored with tiny feathers on the wings and big, cartoon eyes. Bokuto’s obsession with origami was on the verge of madness, he was well over halfway done with his crane challenge, but he’d started making other animals, too. Owls, rabbits, dogs, and the like.

Akaashi smiled to himself and set the owl beside his paper so he could see it throughout the class. The girl to his right looked over and gave him a funny stare, so he tucked the bird into his notebook so it was just peeking over the paper, winking at him.

After class, the girl stopped him before leaving. “Akaashi-san,” she said. “How are you?”

He didn’t want to speak to her, he had to get to his next class. “Fine, thank you. How are you?”

“Good.” She paused, seemed to hesitate, then blurted out quickly, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He tried to keep his face neutral. “No…” he said slowly, unsure.

“Oh.” Now she looked confused. Her head cocked a bit to the side and her eyes glanced down. “You… uhm... “ And now her cheeks flushed. “Did you get an octopus?”

Clearly it wasn’t a real question. He squinted at her, absolutely flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”

She cleared her throat and touched her own neck, just above her shirt. “You’ve got a …. bruise,” she said delicately.

He blinked, then slapped a hand over his throat, eyes widening.

She giggled. “Just button your collar, it should be fine.” She laughed again, covering her mouth at his expression.

“Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth, but tried to smile. “I’ll do that.”  _DAMN HIM,_ he thought,  _I’m going to KILL Bokuto_.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later, Bokuto and Akaashi were at the park, Bokuto had on his running shoes and shorts, a tank top to show off the muscles he’d worked hard to build in his arms. Akaashi sat on a nearby bench, tying his own shoes, eyeing the lovely muscles that Bokuto had developed in his arms. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Bokuto turned to look back at him, smile on his face and fists on his hips. “Yes, the doctor said I was clear for running. And I passed my test, I’m a college boy now!” He sighed happily, face tilting up to the sun.

Akaashi smiled at him, then stood and stretched, his hands on his back and leaning until his spine popped. “Fine then. We’ll just go half a kilometer, okay?”

Bokuto pouted. “What? That’s not nearly enough!”

“It’s your first run in eight months. I don’t want you to get hurt."

Bokuto tapped his foot on the ground. “I’ll be alright.”

“We’ll do half now and half after lunch?”

“Yes!” Bokuto beamed, easily pleased.

Akaashi grinned. “Okay. Now, this isn’t a race. Don’t push yourself. Stop if you want to. Just a jaunt around the park.”

Bokuto was bouncing on his toes, hands jittery. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s go, come on!” He beamed and Akaashi laughed. He skipped away, and Akaashi followed him, and soon they broke into a jog, and Bokuto’s smile was infectious. He waved at everyone, cheered as he fell into the rhythm of it, then got quiet, focused, as he began to run in earnest, beginning to spread his wings for the first time since the fall. His face was awed even as his breath became shallow. He hadn’t been able to work out his heart and lungs like this since the accident, and it showed. He was out of breath before his leg gave out and he slowed to a halt, dropping to the side of the path and sitting on the grass with a huff.

Akaashi stopped beside him, crouching over his leg. “Are you alright?” He reached out, pressing on the muscle of his calf while Bokuto massaged his own thigh.

“Yeah.” Bokuto was panting, inhaling oxygen. “Been so long since I’ve done this. God, it feels good.”

Akaashi smiled up at him, nodding, then turned and sat beside him, draping his arms over his knees. “You went farther than we said we would.”

“Yeah.” Bokuto leaned back on his arms, breathing deep, a smile stretching his lips. “But it was worth it.”

Akaashi looked at him, memorizing the happiness on his face, then enhancing it by leaning over and kissing his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

“You want to do what, now?” Akaashi asked, scowling. He and Bokuto were on a train headed to the center of Tokyo and Bokuto had just said something absolutely ridiculous.

Bokuto leaned against him, if only because the train car was packed, but also because Bokuto liked being close. “I’m going to look for an apartment.”

Akaashi fiddled with his hands. “Really?”

“Yeah, I start school in a few weeks, I should move closer to school.”

Akaashi’s stomach twisted in an odd, painful way. Of course he wanted Bokuto to move on with his life, but he’d enjoyed spending nearly all of his days and nights with Bokuto these past few months. It had become his safe haven. “Of course, Bokuto.”

“You’re super practical, so I thought you’d be able to help. You know I’m not good at stuff like that.”

“Like being an adult? Planning, what, the  _feng shui_ of your new place? I’m not good at that stuff either.”

Bokuto laughed. “But you’re good at thinking ahead.”

Ahead: back to the way things were. His nights empty again. Days quieter. He’d be able to spend more time with his mother… who didn’t seem to like having him around. He could spend more time at the gym, do his job as captain like Bokuto did and ask the team to stay longer, practice more. “I am, I suppose,” he said slowly, his voice casual. “Where are you looking?”

“Figured I’d start in the same place as Kuroo and Yaku.”

Akaashi shook his head. “That’s a horrible idea. You and Kuroo are a tornado.”

Bokuto grinned, put an arm around him and hugged him close. “A tornado of awesome.”

“Kill me.”

Kuroo and Yaku’s building had no apartments available, so they wandered the streets until they found a building that did. Bokuto was a very simple man, after all, and all he needed was a space to make a nest: bed, food, bathroom. That’s all he said he wanted.

Akaashi looked at a few places with him, told him no on the one with no windows and no working water. It took several hours to find one that looked like something Bokuto could live in. It had large windows to let in great swaths of sunlight which Akaashi thought could help combat any lingering depression Bokuto was battling on a daily basis. The kitchen was small but functional, and both appliances for it and furniture for the apartment came with an extra rental fee. The bedroom was small, simple, enough for one person. Akaashi didn’t mention this. Of course he didn’t. Why would he?

“It’s perfect for you,” he said instead, standing beside Bokuto while the landlord hovered in the doorway.

Bokuto stood proudly, grinning around at what would be his new abode. “I think so, too.” He looked back at the landlord. “I can have a deposit and all that other stuff here tomorrow.”

The landlord nodded, accepting this. “I’ll draw up the paperwork then. If someone comes before you though you’re out of luck.”

Bokuto laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

They left the building, Bokuto strolling with an extra skip in his step as they walked down the street. “I’m hungry, you want some food?”

Akaashi shrugged, sick to his stomach the more he thought about Bokuto leaving. Leaving him. He knew it would happen. Had known… but… the reality was worse than he’d thought. “How are you going to pay for all that?”

“I’ve got savings,” Bokuto explained, “but this place is close to the owl sanctuary.”

Akaashi looked up at him. “You want to work there?”

“Of course I do! The guy practically invited me.” Bokuto beamed, giddy at the thought of seeing the owls again.

Akaashi nodded slowly. “How responsible of you. Uni, apartment, job. You’re a full blown adult. Next year you can do your taxes.”

Bokuto laughed, kissed his cheek. “Let’s get lunch then we’ll go by. I wonder if Wasagi is there today?”


	28. Return

The gym was bathed in sunlight. Scuff marks littered the floor like badges of pride. The smell of sweat lingered in the air. Bokuto bounced on his toes and liked the way the hardwood floor bounced back  _ever_ so slightly.

“What’s up?” Kuroo asked as he stepped past him into the gym. “Come on.”

Bokuto beamed, and stepped into the vast space. He was back. He felt like he was home. It wasn’t even  _his_ gym. But any gym. It was potential simmering under his skin, his muscles twitching with desire. They began their warm ups, their stretches, and Bokuto was itching to jump straight into practice. He introduced himself to everyone, one by one, trying to commit each of their names to memory instantaneously. 

Before he could take his turn in the serving practice the coach called him over. “Yes?” Bokuto asked, standing in front of him, glancing back at the others practicing. Damn it, Kuroo’s serves were even better than he remembered.

“Bokuto,” the coach said, drawing his attention back. “You aren’t fully recovered.”

Bokuto felt his chest bubble with anxiety again, the dark worthlessness rearing its ugly head. “No, sir. Almost, though. I’ve been cleared for exercise, though.”

“Light exercise,” the coach corrected, eyebrows raised, “I saw you play in high school, and I was impressed. I allowed you to try out and I picked you for the team because I remembered how good you were in high school. I remember your passion. I like you. But… I can’t keep a player who can’t play.”

Bokuto chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Yes, sir…”

Coach gave him a once over, then nodded. “I know you aren’t fully healed yet, so I don’t want you to push yourself too hard. Stay in the back line. No serving, no jumping, just get yourself back into the rhythm of things, okay? Play libero for a while.”

Bokuto slouched. “What? I don’t play lib—”

“Now you do. Make sure you warm up properly.”

It was a dismissal. Bokuto trumped back to the edges of the court, stretching his arms and feeling pathetic. He admired the liberos, of course, especially Yaku and the fourth year libero Sato. Yaku and Kuroo hadn’t been exaggerating: he was a force to be reckoned with and, Bokuto admitted the moment he saw him, he was beautiful (when he played, obviously). He was quiet and observant, his eyes like a predator on the hunt.

Bokuto couldn’t compete with Yaku as libero, much less Sato. He was good at receives, but he wasn’t great. He wanted to spike. He wanted to serve. And run. And jump. Not this.

He said as much to Kuroo during a water break after an hour of workouts.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him. “But Coach isn’t wrong. You don’t need to be doing all that hopping around yet.”

Bokuto scowled, gulping down water. “Stop telling me that. That’s all everyone says.”

Kuroo scoffed, elbowed him. “Calm down, bro. Just give it a few weeks. That’s all it is, right?”

“Yeah…but I’m not a good libero.”

“Ha!” Yaku snorted from behind him. “You’re sure not.”

Bokuto whirled, eyes narrowing. “Shut up. I don’t need you rubbing it in.”

Yaku moved over to them, hand on one hip. “You just have to practice. Appreciate it more.”

“I do appreciate it!” Bokuto huffed, rolling his ankle so it stayed warm and didn’t seize up. “I like what you guys do, I just can’t do it as well.”

“Practice.” Yaku smirked at him.

“Yeah… guess I’ll get that chance…” Bokuto mumbled.

As the day’s workouts continued, Bokuto’s foot began to slowly throb. His feathers were still bent. He hated it. But the pain was barely a distraction, barely a drop in the ocean of his emotions. He was back, he was playing. He was saving spikes more often than not, even playing across from Kuroo again, which made his heart thrill with joy. The coach liked to have them all practice serves, spikes, and blocks (except Bokuto, to his disgruntlement), and Kuroo was even better at spiking than Bokuto remembered.

But the look on his face when Bokuto dug his spike and sent it straight to the setter was priceless. Kuroo had been sure that spike would have been a point and he was pissed. Bokuto smirked at him across the net and decided that maybe, just maybe, playing libero wasn’t so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

Other than the practices, Bokuto also began taking classes and working late evenings at the owl sanctuary he had visited so long ago with Akaashi. All the walking, practice, and working was taking a toll on his leg but he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t let this simple ache ruin everything he’d worked for. He kicked his body back into shape, cursing it for taking too long. After cleaning the owl sanctuary he went home, to his lonely apartment, and sat with an ice pack on his foot, chugging protein shakes and scarfing down two or three bento he bought at the corner store.

He would sit and wait for Akaashi to call him, and they would tell each other about their days. Akaashi wasn’t sleeping well, Bokuto could tell it in the timbre of his voice, the softness of it, but Akaashi assured him that he was trying his best. They would stay on the phone for hours at a time, Bokuto telling Akaashi about his new apartment, about how the walls were thin and he could hear his neighbors walking in high heeled shoes; how, one time, he tried to film himself cooking pasta to try and prove it to Akaashi that he could boil water… and spilled all his pasta on the floor in the attempt.

“And where’s the video?”

“I was too ashamed to send it. It’s on my phone, though.”

Akaashi would tell him about his mother, about how he thought she was doing better and better, about how excited she was to see him getting close to finishing high school and deciding on which college he wanted to go to. He was even considering Tokyo for their outstanding number of choice diplomas.

“I don’t know what I’d like to major in, Bokuto, I just want to get in.”

“I know.” Bokuto shifted the ice pack on his foot and sucked in a pained breath. “You’d have some time. There’s lots of good options. I’m thinking life sciences for myself. There’s a good veterinary program. You could do it too.”

Akaashi couldn’t help the breathless laugh that came out of him. “You’re ridiculous. I don’t want to be a veterinarian. What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just some ice.”

Worry crept into his voice, “What did you do? You’re not —”

“No! No, no. Just more activity than I’ve done for a long time. You know. The usual. I’m almost done with all this… another few weeks. Please stop worrying.”

Akaashi sighed, but he wouldn’t push it. He knew by now it would only piss Bokuto off and that Bokuto knew very well how to take care of his foot without Akaashi badgering him about it.

“Are you going to try and come here, too?”

“I don’t know, Bokuto.”

Bokuto huffed. “You need to decide soon.”

“I’m not bothering you with what you need to do, Bokuto, please don’t bother me with things I need to do. I know what I need to do the same way you do.”

Bokuto was quiet, unsure what to say, and pushing microwaved bar-b-que into his mouth. He chewed while he waited for Akaashi to get over his snappishness, knew that he would in a few minutes. They’d talked on the phone often enough and Akaashi had been tired enough that he snapped a lot more often now, but he always apologized.

“Shouldn’t you go to bed?” Akaashi asked after a long silence. Bokuto could hear the scratching of his pencil on paper.

“Shouldn’t you?”

Akaashi grumbled, and fell silent again, scribbling out math problems or vocabulary or whatever his homework was tonight. Bokuto tossed his empty dinner containers, put his ice pack back in the freezer, and collapsed in bed watching television on low while Akaashi finished his homework. His eyes were heavy, and he felt himself drifting off, his breathing easy with the knowledge of muscles aching from workouts and burnt energy.

“Keiji…”

“Mhm?”

“I’m gonna fall asleep…”

Akaashi laughed softly. “That’s fine.”

“Will you talk to me?”

“Isn’t that what you usually do for me?”

Bokuto’s eyes peeled open. “I’m sorry. Should I get some coffee? How late will you be up?”

“Don’t worry about me. You should sleep.”

“You should too.”

“Not till you do.”

“Oh, please,” Akaashi scoffed with a gentle laugh that made Bokuto smile, “Just go to sleep.”

“I’ll go get coffee if you don’t go to bed now. Let’s fall asleep together.”

“I need half an hour to finish this homework.”

“That’s, like, an espresso.”

“No, don’t. It’ll be even longer if you keep talking.”

Bokuto waited, humming a little tune he’d heard on the radio, butchering it, but giddy when Akaashi hummed along absently when Bokuto forgot the tune. Twenty minutes later, Bokuto was mostly asleep, Akaashi was telling him a story from his childhood, and after Bokuto fell asleep Akaashi lay awake, listening to him breathe. They liked to simply hear one another breathe, which would soothe the other to sleep. It was another thing they’d done every night, even though it killed their cell phone batteries. Neither of them cared enough to hang up. “I love you,” Akaashi whispered into the phone. “Dream of me.”

“Mhm-hmm..” Bokuto breathed out softly, words slurred with sleep. “You too…”


	29. Taking Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are... welcome to the final chapter. This has been a long and wonderful journey for me, made only the more glorious to know that you all were along for the ride. I'm so grateful that so many have left kudos, comments, and messages for me telling me how much they like this story... You guys have made me so happy, and inspired me to better myself as a writer. I can only hope that this story has made you happy (other than all the angst, of course). Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for journeying with me.  
> Fly High, my friends, fly high.

“What are you doing today?”

Bokuto curled up on his bed, half asleep, phone laying on his cheek where he had managed to balance it after answering it while half asleep. “I’unno… sleeping. It’s cold.”

“You haven’t seen the snow yet?”

“Haven’t gotten out of bed yet.”

It had been nearly three months. It was the middle of December and snow had been falling steadily for days. It was a very cold winter, and when Bokuto wasn’t at school or work he was often curled up in bed with a hot drink and his Keiji owl trying to keep warm. He and Akaashi hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, the last time Akaashi had come to his apartment for the weekend and Bokuto had taken Akaashi to his favorite places around the city, then curled up with him at night, sharing heat and warmth and love like it was oxygen. It had been fun, and Bokuto had felt his heart tear a little when Akaashi had to leave the evening before school.

He would be lying if he said that this, being so far apart, wasn’t the hardest thing he’d done so far. He hated seeing something that reminded him of Akaashi, the color of that sign that somehow captured the exact shade of his eyes, or the crêpe stand on his way to school, or every time he put on his knee pads and wondered if Akaashi wore his. It was the little things, too: how he would taste spicy peppers and think of him, or how when he turned his head a certain way he remembered how Akaashi would kiss the hollow of his throat. How, every morning, he hated waking up alone. He would wake up in the middle of the night, suddenly worried, and think that on the other side of his heart Akaashi lay awake as well, too scared to sleep. He would send a text at two or three in the morning:  _i hope youre sleeping… i love you._

On the nights he didn’t get a text back, he’d drift back to sleep, happy in the knowledge that Akaashi was sleeping soundly. Because, some nights, he’d get a response that was usually:  _why are you awake?_

Bokuto would call him, and Akaashi would tell him about his dreams, or his day, or his worries, until his voice became distant with drowsiness, and Bokuto would take up the conversation, speaking softly and continuously until Akaashi fell asleep.

“Do you want to come over?” Akaashi asked, breaking him from his reverie.

“To your house? Sure.” He’d only been over twice since they’d been dating, and he liked Akaashi’s mother and Akaashi told him that she liked him as well. He said that Bokuto had a way of making her smile more and his influence would last for days.

“Wear something warm, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Another date?”

Akaashi laughed. “No. But I think you’ll like it, still.”

Bokuto promised he’d be there within the hour, then busied himself getting ready. He toyed with the idea of taking the little owl, but decided against it since they wouldn’t be at Akaashi’s house very long and he didn’t want to lose the owl. Instead, he kissed it’s little head and told it to keep warm while he was gone, then tucked it under the blankets. 

As he walked to the train station, he reflected on his recovery. It was mostly over, now. Just the barest hints of pain the next day when he moved too much. Just yesterday his doctor had cleared him for  _all_ exercise. Everything. He was, technically, fully healed. He hadn’t had the practice yet to put his new foot into action — he hadn’t done anything other than some light jump rope and balancing, and nothing felt bad. Nothing hurt immediately afterwards. Everything seemed to be in its proper place.

Why, then, did he feel so down about it all? A heaviness still rested in his chest when he thought about everything that had happened this past year. Akaashi was the brightest spot that kept the seething, heavy darkness at bay. Kuroo, too. The new team he played with, that accepted him and supported him. Even when Sato and Yaku reamed him together about how he wasn’t giving the position of libero the  _respect it deserves_ he could feel the darkness receding. But it had spent so long hooked into his ribcage, making a home in his heart, that it was hard to jostle it out completely.

“I’m almost there,” he said into the phone thirty minutes later as he walked down the street to Akaashi’s house.

“I’m waiting for you.”

“Funny, eh? I used to say that to you.” Bokuto laughed, walking a bit faster, staving off the cold as he worked his muscles to pliability.

Akaashi chuckled. “You’ve got your wings back, you don’t wait for anything, anymore.”

_I wait for you_.

When he came in sight of the house, Akaashi was waiting on the front steps. He hung up wordlessly and waited for Bokuto to come closer, then they embraced, Bokuto folding Akaashi into his chest, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his hair. He loved this moment — this meeting — as if for the first time, every time. Akaashi would press his cold nose against Bokuto’s throat and chastise him for not wearing a scarf, and Bokuto would promise to wear one, but he never would… because then Akaashi wouldn’t do it anymore.

Bokuto glanced up while they held each other, saw movement in one of the windows of the house. Akaashi’s mother stood watching them. Bokuto didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think that Akaashi had ever told her the extent of their relationship. He almost pulled away —

Then she smiled and nodded approvingly. She waved at him, then let the curtain fall as she backed away. Bokuto smiled to himself and lay his cheek against Akaashi’s hair.

“Ready?” Akaashi asked, pulling away enough to look up at him.

“Where are we going?”

Akaashi’s smile was a slow, steady thing, he tried to stop it but couldn’t, and he laughed at himself. “You’ll see.”

“This again?” Bokuto laughed, stepping back and sliding his gloved hand into Akaashi’s. “When will you stop with the secrets?”

“When they stop becoming fun.”

They began walking, Bokuto letting Akaashi lead the way. “Do you know what today is, Kou?”

Bokuto’s insides squirmed — Akaashi had been using that name more often recently, and it always made him giddy with joy. “Sunday?” Bokuto guessed.

Akaashi smiled. “Yes… but that’s not what I meant. Do you know that…” and here he paused, the tightness around his eyes scrunching up with stress, “Today is the one year anniversary.”

Bokuto stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, his breath rushing out of him in a huff.

_That was it._ The reason the heaviness weighed on him more today than yesterday.  His body remembered. 

Today was the day he fell, exactly one year ago.

Akaashi turned to look at him, his face nervous, brows drawn down and mouth pressed into a small, tight line. Bokuto looked back at him, unsure of what he felt. The journey had been so long. The despair, and the pain. The tears. And the joy. Everything that had come from the Fall. A year’s worth of things.

He squeezed Akaashi’s hand, let a smile touch his face. “I didn’t know. You know I’m bad with dates, anyway.”

“Are you alright?” Akaashi was searching his face for signs of … what, he didn’t know. Trauma? PTSD?

“I’m fine,” Bokuto assured him, pulling him over and kissing him. The darkness simmered, writhed, but he pushed it down, unwilling to let it mar this day with Akaashi. “You know what else is coming up?”

Akaashi frowned at him, still worried. “No.” He thought it was a trick question.

“Next month it’s our anniversary. January fifteenth.”

Akaashi blinked, then blushed, then laughed. He pulled his hand away and pressed it to his face, ashamed. “I didn’t even realize. You _just said_ you were bad with dates.”

“I’m good with _some_ dates. We’ll do something romantic, yeah?”

Akaashi laughed again, “Of course. But we’ll have to talk about that later, we’re going to be late.”

 

* * *

 

They arrived at Fukurodani High School and Bokuto gazed around with trepidation. He hadn’t been back since the day before his accident. Being here he was both an outsider and a permanent resident. Everything looked the same as in his memories: the white walls, the long hallways, the trees that littered the grounds, their bare branches heavy with the burden of snow. And yet… it was all so very different.

Maybe it wasn’t different, he thought, maybe he had simply changed too much to feel like he belonged here any longer. Akaashi made his way to the gym in the back corner of the school, taking an odd route, but Bokuto followed him without thinking about it, too lost in his own thoughts.

Akaashi stopped at the door, opening it the smallest fraction. “Bokuto, are you still with me?”

He pulled his thoughts from the classrooms, the ghosts of his past, and came back, smiling at Akaashi. “Sure. What are we doing here?” He glanced at the doors and wondered if Akaashi planned to do something dirty in the gym where they’d met. He’d never thought about it before, but yeah, it would be nice if…

“You’ll see. Here, you first,” Akaashi said, opened the door wider, and stepped aside to let him in. Bokuto moved into the spacious gymnasium, his eyes needing a moment to adjust to the dimness inside compared to the blinding light of the sun reflecting off the snow outside. Before it could fully register, (the nets, the smell of the place, the sunlight baking the place to warmness), an echo bounced off the walls, at least a dozen people leaping from behind ball carts and shouting:

“Surprise!”

Bokuto blinked as several people burst out from hiding places. Yukie ran over and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him as she began to cry and laugh. He held her up, trying not to fall over, laughing too. “What are you all doing here?”

Akaashi stepped inside, closing the door against the cold. “I decided to throw you a party.”

Here Kuroo stood too, arms folded and grinning. Saru was there, and Haruki, the entire current roster of the current Fukurodani team, including Kaori. Yaku stood next to Kenma and, beside him, grinning like the sun, was his disciple Hinata. There were many more: Sugawara and Daichi of Karasuno, a handful of the graduated Shinzen players, his old captain, old friends from school, so many people. Too many to count in those first few moments. Bokuto beamed around at them all. “You’re all here.”

Yukie pulled away, wiping her cheeks. “Akaashi called us.”

Bokuto turned to smile at him. “Really?”

Akaashi laughed, nodding. “Of course. I thought you’d like to see everyone. And you’re allowed to play now, right?” His cheeks flushed, and he began to unwind the scarf around his neck. “I’d like to see that myself.”

Bokuto’s heart fluttered, the light in his chest expanding, pushing back the darkness. “Really?”

Kuroo stretched one arm across his chest. “We were waiting on you.”

 Twenty minutes later, after Bokuto stopped salivating at the sight of Akaashi in the knee pads he’d given him so long ago, after he and Hinata had stopped shouting with glee at each other, catching up through words said too quickly to be understood, after he’d assured Akaashi he’d done a proper warm up, and then Kuroo assuring him as well because he made Bokuto  _re-do_ the warm up…

He stood across the net from Kuroo, two rag tag teams of people forming up, others going to the balcony to watch, some of them standing at the sidelines to be impromptu referees. Sugawara and Daichi had gone to get food, and would be back in an hour. They had enough time to play a game. It wasn’t just the game that had Bokuto’s insides alight with glee... it was all his friends, come from far and wide to be with him.

“I won’t let you win,” Kuroo told him, smirking.

Beside him, Hinata perked up. “You won’t beat us!”

Kuroo laughed. “Alright, Shrimpy, we’ll see, we’ll see.”

On his other side, Yuuto vibrated with anticipation, bouncing on his toes. Bokuto smirked at Kuroo, then turned to see Akaashi ready to serve. It was just a game, not even a practice match, not anything, but it meant the world to him.

Akaashi knew it, and smiled back at him. “Ready?”

“Good serve, Aka,” Bokuto called, then winked at him. Akaashi laughed, and stepped away from the line. Bokuto drew in a breath, then stood frozen in a slack-jawed awe as he saw Akaashi perform a powerful jump serve. He’d never done it before, but he looked glorious. He hung in the air, form perfect, ball flying in an arch straight to the other side, right in the back corner.  _He’s beautiful_ , Bokuto thought.

“Pay attention!” Saru shouted at him, and Bokuto whipped around to watch the ball fly back as Lev spiked it high and hard.

Haruki got the first touch, dropping to one knee to dig the ball from the spike. 

It flew to Akaashi and they locked eyes. Just a moment.

Akaashi’s said:  _are you ready?_

Bokuto's said back:  _give me a good one._

Akaashi set the ball high, giving Bokuto plenty of time for the run up. He jumped, his body singing to him. He hung in the air, arm coiled. In front of him Kuroo, Lev, and Wataru jumped too, making a high, high wall. He and Kuroo smirked at one another above the net, and it made his chest swell with pride to know that Kuroo would not hold back.

So Bokuto didn’t either. As the ball came down to him, he sucked in a breath, then let it out with all his strength as his body contracted like a whip — slamming the ball straight through Kuroo’s hands with enough force to make it bounce off the floor and high into the balcony.

He landed hard on his feet, stumbled a moment, then toppled over, landing on his back and laughing breathlessly.

Kuroo stood glaring at his stinging red hands, furious at having his perfect block blown through like it was child’s play.

Akaashi ran over, knelt over him. “Bokuto! Are you —” he was cut short when Bokuto tugged him down and kissed him.

Catcalls followed, whistles from the balcony. Akaashi pulled away, face as red as Kuroo’s hands. “Are you okay? How’s your —”

Bokuto sat up, smiling so wide his face hurt. His palm stung, throbbing with the quickening of his heart. The darkness retreated, dissipated by the light that was his friends, his lover, his favorite thing in the entire world.

“Yo, lovebirds,” Yaku called, “I thought we were playing a game here.”

Akaashi laughed, and hauled Bokuto to his feet. “You’re really alright?”

Bokuto touched his hand. “I’m perfect. Do that again, okay? Set for me.”

“Of course, Bokuto, always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teensy lie... not the last chapter. There will be an epilogue. But that's not technically a chapter, is it? :)   
> This was originally supposed to be the last chapter... but oh, well.


	30. Wish

The morning caught him by surprise. Akaashi had slept hard, overly warm, and happy. The light shone in through the curtains, promising to be a beautiful day. He didn’t want to get up, though.

So he buried himself in Bokuto’s side, pressing his face into the warm and very  _Bokuto_  smelling place under his arm.

This was his favorite way to wake up. It had been nearly three months they had been living in Tokyo together, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get over waking up beside the big man that he loved. Bokuto shifted beside him, mumbling about the brightness and how they needed better curtains, like he did every morning. His arms came around Akaashi and pulled him close against him, Bokuto sighing heavily and slipping right back into sleep. Akaashi didn’t mind being crushed by his biceps, only smiled to himself and let it happen.

After another few minutes, however, he had to abandon the bed and the warmth of Bokuto’s body. When he tried to move, Bokuto tightened his arms.

“Don’t go, Keiji.”

“I have to. I’ve got class.” Akaashi kissed the swell of Bokuto’s arm, and thought that Bokuto was even more muscular now than before the accident. 

Akaashi had started at Tokyo University in the spring and, while he hadn’t joined the volleyball team, he had begun classes. They weren’t as hard as his high school classes yet, and he was enjoying the veritable down time, but that didn't mean he could just skip them.

He looked up to find Bokuto watching him with his lovely golden eyes, a broad, sleepy smile plastered on his face. “We’ve got a game tonight…Will you come?”

“Of course I will. I’ve got to see the ace in action.”

Bokuto made a face and rolled onto his back, pulling Akaashi on top of him so they were pressed together, chest to toes. Bokuto enjoyed this because he could grab Akaashi’s toes between his own. Akaashi didn’t particularly  _like_  this new habit Bokuto had developed in his left foot, but understood Bokuto’s irrational need to prove to himself over and over again that he could move the toes at all.

“I’m not the ace…” Bokuto pouted, sliding his palms up underneath Akaashi’s shirt, spreading his warmth along Akaashi’s spine.

“Not yet.” Akaashi smiled down at him. “Give it some time, they’ll figure it out.” He kissed Bokuto’s jaw, brushed his nose along his cheek, and slid one hand down to squeeze Bokuto’s thigh where he had become uncommonly ticklish there since the surgery.

Bokuto laughed and moved one hand down to grab a handful of Akaashi’s ass, because he liked it and because Akaashi didn’t and it made him squeak in indignation.

“Alright, alright,” Akaashi pushed up, knocking the blanket off his shoulders. He shivered, sitting carefully on Bokuto’s legs. Glancing down, he saw the long white scar from the surgery and brushed his finger down it. Bokuto stretched his arms above his head, not caring about the scar like he used to. Akaashi had made it a point to tell him over and over again that he didn’t mind them, and it only reminded him how far they both had come.

Bokuto had eight scars from his accident: the long line on his thigh, six tiny holes on his foot where the metal rods had poked out of flesh, and a small mark on the back of his head where his head had hit. Akaashi had told him once that the number eight sounded like prosperity, and maybe it wasn’t just luck that had saved Bokuto from death. Bokuto said it reminded him of the dog Hachikō, and maybe he should figure out how to style his hair like a dog instead of an owl. Akaashi had turned this down fast, though.

“You know,” Akaashi said suddenly, “I just remembered something interesting.”

Bokuto tucked one hand under his head, yawning. His other moved absently up and down Akaashi’s side. “Mhm?”

“I read once somewhere that the human body basically replaces itself over time. Mostly, anyway.” He traced the scar, then moved up to Bokuto’s hip bone, and the muscles of his stomach. Bokuto was proud of his body after working so hard, and generally slept in only underwear. “Not everything, of course. Like, your eyes and your brain don’t ever really change.”

“So I’m perpetually stupid?” Bokuto grinned at him, one eye closed against the light. It always made his nose wrinkle cutely and Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, you just used the word perpetually correctly. You’re not stupid. Anyway,” he pressed his fingertips into Bokuto’s stomach, leaving momentary white streaks on his stomach when he dragged them upwards, “You get a new skin every few weeks. I don’t remember exactly, but —”

“We shed like snakes?” Bokuto laughed, then wheezed and flipped Akaashi off him when Akaashi dug his knuckles into Bokuto’s ribs. “Stop that!”

“Stop interrupting,” Akaashi said, breathless, but grinning. Bokuto hovered over him, and Akaashi traced the lines of his collarbones and throat as he continued. “Maybe, after enough time, the scars will go away. Or, at least, they’ll fade enough that we can’t see them anymore.”

Bokuto smiled at him, shivered when Akaashi’s fingertip passed over his earlobe. “That’d be cool. I try not to think about it, though.”

“I know. I just wanted to —” He was cut off as Bokuto kissed him, laying his body down.

“You’re going to be late to class,” Bokuto declared, kicking away the rest of the blankets and slipping his fingers into Akaashi’s shorts.

Akaashi huffed, turning his face away. Bokuto took the opportunity to run his tongue over the sensitive skin of Akaashi’s throat. He shuddered, trying to remember the reason he needed to go to class, and knocked his fist against Bokuto’s broad shoulders.

“Stop that, I have to go,” he said, attempting his best stern tone.

Humming, Bokuto moved lower, grazing skin with teeth. 

“ _Aha._ ” Akaashi squirmed. “Kou, please, I can’t be late.”

Huffing, Bokuto collapsed on top of him.

“Oof! Jeez, how much do you weigh?!” Akaashi wiggled under him, pushing against his shoulders until Bokuto rolled away with a deep and betrayed sigh. 

“Saying my name like that doesn’t make me want to let you go,” Bokuto said, reaching out to slide his fingers up Akaashi’s back as he sat up.

Akaashi leaned over and kissed him, leaning his body down until Bokuto sighed and wrapped his arms around him. They kissed in the way of the mornings, slow and warm, feeling each other out to see what the moment could bring, until Akaashi’s alarm went off on his cell phone and he had to pull away. 

Bokuto groaned, holding his hips close even as Akaashi pushed him away. “Don’t go. Skip class.”

Akaashi patted his chest. “I can’t. Maybe we can get lunch before you have to go to practice?” He sat up and slid off the bed, only taking a moment or two to admire Bokuto’s form before he went into the bathroom to get ready.

 

* * *

 

After Akaashi left, Bokuto tucked both of the little owls into the vacant bed while he showered. They acted as if the owls like tiny facsimiles of each other and treated them with care: making them nests throughout the house and carrying them from the bedroom to the living room throughout the day. 

As Bokuto was dumping last night’s laundry in the bin he found a receipt from dinner (his new favorite ramen shop with extra extra large bowls) and took a moment to fold it into a tiny origami crane. He reached under the bed and pulled out the large box he kept them in, all squashed together like sardines. Too bad he couldn’t fold sardines. 

As he tucked it into the box and marked another tally into the side of the bin he paused, counting, then sat back on his heels and smiled to himself. 

Nine hundred and ninety nine cranes. He tapped the marker against his thigh and considered his life the past year and a half. It should have been the darkest time of his life. Parts of it were, he supposed, but not many days stood out anymore as particularly awful. 

Not since Akaashi. Not since he had brought the light of love into Bokuto’s life. It had seeped through everything, touching each part of himself, bringing happiness wherever it went. 

He pushed the box back under the bed, and decided that not matter what all he’d gone through, he’d do it all again. It didn’t matter that his ankle still pained him when it rained. Nor that he had lost so much  _time_  being bedridden. It didn't matter because if it hadn't happened... he wouldn't be the same person he was today. He'd learned a lot about himself, about what his limits were, about where he could push himself, and where he shouldn't. He'd become a starting member of a great college volleyball team. He'd fallen in love... he'd found the person he was meant for, and had managed to not fuck it up. He didn't want for anything, anymore. He couldn't think of what else he'd want. 

The thought that went through his head was this:  _I don’t need a wish anymore, I have everything that I could ever want._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! The fic is officially at an end! I hope you guys enjoyed it. :)  
> (apparently i'm a big fat liar because later on i decided to write an epilogue...)


	31. Cranes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, you guys, I'm sorry I lied to you AGAIN. This is ANOTHER chapter after I promised I was done. So sorry, but I hope you'll all forgive me when you read the chapter. ;D  
> Anyway, this is part of the 25 Days of Ficmas that's also posted under my Works so check it out for fluff, angst, and lots of holiday and winter fun.
> 
> OKAY Y'ALL IT'S AKAASHI'S BIRTHDAY. How fitting that this fic STARTED with Bokuto's birthday and pain and will end with Akaashi's birthday and joy.

Bokuto shifted nervously on his feet, jitters and butterflies and bubbles and literally every nervous energy in the world manifesting itself in his body. His fingers shook, his toes tapped, his stomach twisted, his heart pounded… he thought he might just fall over dead if he didn’t do it soon.

He and Akaashi were decorating their first Christmas tree together. It wasn’t huge, they didn’t have room for a big tree in their apartment, but it was still a decent size, the top reaching just above Bokuto’s head. They had string and paper clips, and were threading them carefully through the paper cranes Bokuto had spent his year in recovery making, then they would hang them on the tree. It was cheaper and more sentimental than ornaments, plus they were colorful and the little lights they had wound around the branches lit up the paper cranes and sent their colors bouncing around the room.

“I didn’t know you had so many,” Akaashi said he dug through the large tub at their feet for the most colorful birds. “Did you ever finish them? I remember you just stopped making them and I guess I thought you gave up?”

Bokuto wiggled on the couch, poking himself under the nail with a paper-clip and jumping with pain. “Ah, no. Not yet. But I didn’t give up.” He could hear his own voice trembling. If Akaashi noticed, Bokuto was  _sure_ he did, he hadn’t missed much in their year and half of living together, he gave no notice of it. They’d learned to pick their battles with each other, so they wouldn’t squabble as much over the little things. Akaashi knew that Bokuto would tell him if something was really bothering him, and Bokuto knew that if he pestered Akaashi too much about something ( _can we get take out? will you go to the park and set for me? Akaashi this rice tastes weird are you sure you made it right?)_ he was liable to make Bokuto sleep on the couch. Or at the very least not let Bokuto snuggle against him in their bed.

“How many did you end up with?” Akaashi stood, moving to the tree with several of the birds in his hand to hang them all up at one time.

Now was his chance. He could just stand and present the final bird…

His heart gave a painful throb.  _Oh my god my heart just skipped a beat,_ he thought. That was it, the final push he needed. He jumped to his feet and reached into his back pocket, pulling out the larger, orange crane he’d made this morning and quickly puffing it up so it wasn’t flat. He stood there frozen, practically out of breath, and this is what caused Akaashi to turn to him in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“This,” Bokuto said, his voice catching in his chest and he had to inhale a huge breath as he held the orange crane out. It sat on his palm with wings wide, and Bokuto’s words written on the top:  _open me._ “This is the last one. The thousandth one…”

“Oh.” Akaashi laughed gently. “So you get your wish now. What is it?” He reached for the bird and his face changed when he picked it up. His eyes flicked sharply to Bokuto’s when the weight of the bird took him by surprise. “What’s in this?”

Bokuto twirled his fingers in a  _go on, go on_ motion, too nervous to actually speak. Akaashi raised one eyebrow and, because he could see how serious Bokuto was taking this, he flipped the bird carefully on it’s back and gently pushed the little hole at the bottom open, reaching in and pulling out a gold ring that gleamed under the soft lights on the tree.

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth, then closed it, staring at it. Bokuto reached forward and enclosed Akaashi’s hands in his own, bird, ring, and all, as if he would protect them all from harm. “Keiji,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice gone now, as he saw the shine of tears in Akaashi’s eyes and the upturn of his mouth. “My only wish is for us to be side by side forever.”

Akaashi let out a shaky laugh, a single tear falling down his cheek as he blinked the others away. “A-Are you serious?”

“Of course! I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life!” Bokuto said, too loud, too excited, because Akaashi looked so happy. He took the ring from Akaashi’s fingers and turned Akaashi’s hand over so he could slip the ring on his finger. “Ah! It fits!” He’d spent  _hours_ at the jewelry store, fiddling with the sizers, trying to remember the exact shape of Akaashi’s fingers in his own and what size to get him. Akaashi’s hands were shaking and Bokuto held it tight, loving the feel of the metal against his palm.

“I — oh my god —” Akaashi laughed again. “I didn’t actually say  _yes,_ Kou. Oh God! Don’t make that face.” He set the bird on the table and tucked his hand against Bokuto’s cheek, pulling him down to kiss him. “Of course. You’re my —” he paused, touching their foreheads together, practically giggling with his next words, “We’re  _sowlmates_ aren’t we?”

“Keiji!” Bokuto shrieked, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s waist and picking him up, spinning him in the too small space, until Akaashi was yelping with surprise and trying to sound angry but failing.

“Stop it, stop it! You’re gonna knock the whole tree over!”

Bokuto dropped back onto the couch, laying back and holding Akaashi against his body, kissing him as they laughed, and Akaashi’s hands came up to hold his face still so he could get a nice, long, proper kiss in. Bokuto’s heart doubled in size as he felt the ring on his cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered against Bokuto’s lips. “I love you, you big beautiful weirdo.”

“Hey now,” Bokuto grinned, squeezing his arms around Akaashi’s hips, “I’m  _your_   weirdo now.”

“Forever,” Akaashi agreed, ducking his head for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'ring in the bird' idea was all thanks to @yikescaninot, so thank you for giving it to me and allowing me to write it! :D You're awesome!


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